Threads of Fate
by Madam Chaos Shadow
Summary: A mysterious boy and a fiery girl find their destinies intertwined when their searches for a powerful magical artifact brings them both to the sleepy island town of Carona. But when they stumble upon the trail of the strongest Relic ever crafted, their quests may affect not only their fate, but that of the entire world... [Game Novelization]
1. Homecoming

**Threads of Fate  
**

* * *

Chaos Shadow

* * *

**Threads of Fate (Dewprism)** and all related goodness is copyright Squaresoft (now Square-Enix). I claim no rights to anything that follows except, of course, the contents of the document itself.

**Opening Notes:  
**This is a project that I've been sitting on for far too long, and it's been nagging me in the back of my mind on and off ever since I resolved to do it and continuously failed to see it through. Earlier this month I finally told myself that I was going to sit down and get things in order and push through until I was sure I had cleared the major hurdles that would always stop me short of actually making progress. I think I did.

This is a novelization of the game that I've wanted to write for... longer than I care to admit. _Threads of Fate_ is still very dear to me and I feel the need to respond to my own promises and finally, finally, do this.

For the record, I will not be strictly adhering to the game or some of its apparent designs; adaptation is a tricky business, especially working from the interactive medium backwards, so I've taken liberties with certain aspects and arrangements. All the fundamentals are there (otherwise it wouldn't be _Threads of Fate_), but certain details are going to be smudged. I'm sure most people aren't terribly concerned (if you wanted to play the game you can just play the game, after all), but heads-up for those to whom it matters.

Hope you enjoy.

* * *

**One || Homecoming**

Rue sat hunched over on the bed of his cabin, trying to make the most out of the cramped space he had available to him. A stack of papers lay splayed out before him, another stack still assembled nearly behind him, his immediate reading material propped up on the pillow. There was a small lantern in the cabin, swaying gently as the ship itself was rocked by the waves, and a porthole allowed some natural light to filter through, but even then he felt his eyes straining to read the text in front of him.

Not that the light was completely at fault. The documents they had found were old, yellowed, faded, and even the best of conditions it was difficult to see the letters, let alone read the words. Compounded with the fact that the page was written in an old language he only had a tenuous grasp of, and it was little wonder that he was getting sore and tense, and grinding his teeth so badly his jaw hurt for it.

He sighed to himself and massaged his forehead, at a slowly blossoming spot of pain just underneath his bandana.

No good.

He heard a knock from the cabin door and looked up. An older man, perhaps in his forties or early fifties, stood there, leaning against the doorway. He looked a bit disheveled– no, windswept. His clothes were creased and wrinkled, his brown hair unkempt and slightly tangled, and he had about the salty scent of the sea breeze. He also had about him a look of mild consternation; deep blue eyes peered confused through his glasses, raking over Rue's ersatz bedspread.

"What– what are you doing with my papers?" he asked.

Rue looked down to his lap, blinking suddenly as though he had was only just realizing he was covered in documents. "Oh! No, I'm– sorry, Doctor, I just–" He started gathering the papers back into neat little stacks; fortunately, he had not done much co-mingling, and he could easily sort them back the way they had been. "I, uh, I thought I'd figured something out." He shifted the stack of papers, straightened them out, and reached down next to the bed. He returned with the heavy case that the papers had been stored in and quickly went about replacing them.

"Did you?" the man asked.

"N-not as such, no." Rue made one more pass to make sure the papers were straight, then closed the case and clicked it shut. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't meant to disrupt anything."

The man shifted his weight, leaning fully into the door frame. "You seem nervous today."

"Just tense," Rue said. "Something about all of this– I dunno. I just feel fidgety today."

The man chuckled, and gave him a smile. Rue felt a little of his embarrassment melt away. "It's all right," he said. "You've been stuck on a ship for a few days. I don't blame you if you're going stir crazy."

Rue scratched the back of his neck and looked away, frowning to himself. "Maybe..." He realized something and swung his legs over the side of the bed, fully facing the man. "Is there something you needed, Klaus?"

"Just to know where my case went," he said. "I can't lose those papers." He laughed again, but a little more humorlessly than before. "They're the only thing I have to show for this trip."

"That's not insignificant," Rue said. "I'm sure there's... _something_ in here."

Klaus sighed and waved his hand dismissively. "Certainly not what I was hoping for. Ah, but that's not why I came down." He pushed off the door frame, stood unevenly for a second, and gently settled his weight on his right leg, wincing slightly. Rue tensed and moved to approach, but Klaus waved him off. "I'm fine," he said.

"Your cane–"

"Leaned it on the wall." At that, he reached somewhere on his side of the door frame and produced the wooden cane. He settled himself against it, relaxed, and nodded upward. "Come with me. I'd like to show you something."

Rue shoved off the bed and followed as Klaus rounded the corner and made his way to the stairs leading up to the deck. Klaus made his way shakily up, and Rue gave him a few seconds head start at the top before he scrambled up behind him. He emerged blinking into the full force of sunlight, and averted his eyes to the deck of the ship while he waited for them to adjust. Down below, even with the portholes and the lantern, was still worlds darker than it was up top, especially with the sunlight gleaming brilliant off the water.

When he was ready, he looked up, and saw that Klaus had headed toward the bow. Rue followed and sidled up alongside him, leaning against the railing of the ship. Klaus held out his hand.

"We're here."

Rue hardly needed Klaus to point it out.

Ahead of them was an island, a sheer cliff rising up to meet them. His gave drifted to the left, following along southward as the island extended and sloped downward to meet the ocean; then, further along, as a chain of smaller islands spread out before him. His gaze hovered on another island further away, a mountain that stood massive over the rest of the archipelago.

"Carona, of course, is the one we're pointed at straight," Klaus was saying. "We'll probably be docking in a couple of hours. And that," he added, following Rue's gaze, "is the Raging Mountain. It's the volcano responsible for the formation of the archipelago. Ah, not to worry any more, of course. It's long since dormant."

"It's beautiful," Rue said quietly.

"The mountain?"

"The islands," he said. He squinted into the light and brought a hand over his eyes, shielding them from the sun. "Is that forest?"

"All across the islands," Klaus said. "They're fertile by nature, what with sitting under a volcano."

"Of course."

They stood in silence for several minutes, buffeted by the heavy salt of the breeze, the wash of waves against the ship's hull, the shrill of sea birds and the faint murmur of conversation around them.

"Well," Klaus said finally. "I just thought you might want to have a look at the islands before we land. If you wanted to back below–"

"No," Rue said quickly. "No, I... I don't think I was having any luck." He adjusted himself, leaned fully against the railing, stared out into the approaching distance. Something about that moment – the sea-salt, the waves, the sight of the islands before him – washed him in a powerful sense of calm, cooling his restlessness from earlier. "I think I'll stay up here."

Klaus smiled. "Good."

. .

Klaus' estimation had been correct; not two hours later the ship was working her way into the harbor's largest docking slip. It was slow going; Carona was not a large town and did not need (nor have the room for) a particularly large harbor; in fact, the extended dock the schooner was resting in had been specifically built for that ship and the others that shared its design and purpose.

Fortunately, the harbor-master and the helmsman and the crewmen of the ship had been performing this dance bi-monthly for years, and though the process was a little slow going it went off without a hitch. The ship slid into the docking slip, cushioned by a series of lowered buoys, and while the crewmen secured her to the pylons and checked the lines, the harbor-master was already at work wheeling the ramp up to the side of the ship. He hooked it onto the edge, and from the deck the ship's merchant-owner made sure it was thoroughly secured. Then he moved back and allowed the harbor-master to ascend.

Rue and Klaus had already gathered together their small mount of personal effects and research documents, and the two of them were waiting nearby when the lithe, tanned form of the harbor-master appeared over the edge of the hull. He cast a quick glance over in their direction, but his immediate attention turned to the merchant.

"Marcum!" he said genially. "You have a few stowaways."

"And a third down below," he said. "He's gathering his things, I think."

"Somebody I know?"

"I'm not sure. Are you familiar with a mister Niel Summersby?"

The harbor-master rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "No," he said finally. "Can't say I am." He looked over again, and a grin spread across his face. "But I do recognize this one."

"Davis," Klaus said, taking a few steps toward him. "It's been a bit."

"_Months_," Davis said. "But I'm glad to see you, you look good!" He looked over his shoulder. "But maybe you should say hi to her, first."

Klaus blinked and adjusted his glasses. "Who are–"

Before he could finish, Davis stepped off the ramp, and just a few seconds behind him there came another person up the ramp, this time a woman – probably in her forties, although she didn't look it. She was a bit on the short side, and solidly built; it was easy to see looking at her that she was no stranger to physical labor when she was younger, but more domestic life had softened the edges. Her short-cropped hair was a few shades lighter than Klaus', and not yet prone to flecks of gray. From beneath her bangs, pale blue eyes turned up to meet Klaus' gaze.

Klaus took only a second to recognize her before he closed the distance between them and took her in his arms. She hugged him tightly right back. They stood in their embrace for a few moments, saying nothing, until finally the woman pulled slightly away, and they both separated completely.

"Welcome back," she said. "Have a nice trip?"

Klaus grinned. "Nice enough for business. Not as lucrative as I was hoping, though."

"Well, you can't expect to find earth-shattering magic wherever you go," she said. "I told you not to get your hopes up." Her eyes flicked from Klaus to the small collection of cases he had left on the ship's deck. "Looks like you found..."

Her words trailed off as her gaze trailed upward, and she focused not on the cases, but on the person still standing by them. They locked eyes, her pale blue gaze catching his hazel-brown,

"...something, at least," she finished, and looked back to Klaus. "Klaus, dear, is this your assistant?"

"Ah, apologies." Klaus took a step back, balancing with his cane, and gestured with his free hand between the two. "Mira, as you've gathered, this is Rue. Rue– I'd like you to meet my wife, Mira."

Rue stepped forward and offered his hand. Mira accepted it, and they shook. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am," he said.

"No, the pleasure is mine," she said. "My husband mentioned you in his letters." Her eyes unfocused from his and wandered slightly, and Rue released his grip on her hand and took a half-step back, but Mira was already forming the words. "You have beautiful hair."

He chuckled weakly. "Th-thank you," he said, self-consciously tucking an errant strand behind his ear. She wasn't complementing the style; he hadn't bothered getting it cut for quite some time, so it had grown somewhat ragged and he'd taken to tying the worst of it off in a ponytail. No, her comment was the color; perfect, stark white. He was used to it coming up just about every time he met somebody, but he never got around to liking it.

But Mira didn't linger. She gave him a warm smile, and changed the subject; "I assume you've been keeping my husband out of trouble?"

Before Rue could respond, however, Mira suddenly tensed, focused on Klaus' cane.

"I– suppose not," she said, trying and failing to keep the edge out of her voice. "What did you do to yourself?"

"Mira, dear, it's fine. _I'm_ fine. Just–"

"_Klaus._" Her eyes narrowed. "I don't recall reading about this in any of your letters."

Klaus exhaled. "I'm sorry. I just... I didn't mean for you to worry. Rue, if you could help me with the luggage?"

"Of course."

"I'll tell you all about back home, Mira."

Mira folded her arms over her chest and gave him a powerful stare, but closed her eyes and nodded. "That's fair," she said, and then walked past him to the luggage, picking up one of the cases Rue had not collected yet. "Here, I can take some of that off your hands."

"I think I have it, Mrs. Adler."

She ignored him and grabbed a second case. "Let's not argue, you only have two hands. And– please. Call me Mira. You'll be joining us for lunch?"

He looked a bit surprised, but caught himself quickly. "Oh, of– of course, I'd love to."

Klaus made to say farewell to Davis and Marcum, but the two had already taken off below deck. He shrugged to himself and led the way down the ramp, Mira and Rue following close behind. Once they were off the docks, Mira fell in step alongside Klaus.

"Sweet boy," she said. "Where did you find him?"

"In the atelier where I fractured my leg."

The nonchalance caught her off guard, and there was a moment's pause before she shot him a glance. "Where you–"

Klaus gave her a wry laugh. "When we're home, Mira," he said. "I have plenty of stories to tell you."

. .

The Adler house was located about midway through town, at the far end of the town square and right at the beginning of the residential houses. The building itself was unremarkable; a single-storey wood house, like many of the others nearby, and other than its convenient location on the corner of the bloc the only thing that separated it from the rest was a somewhat faded sign emblazoned with the family surname.

Inside was a different story.

Rue had been traveling with Klaus for a couple of months by that point, and was somewhat accustomed to the doctor's rather cavalier approach to organization. He kept most of his paperwork neat and tidy, but only for the purposes of transportation; the rest of his belongings, however, had a tendency to settle wherever they happened to land. Rue had seen that this wasn't a result of laziness, though; the doctor just had more important things on his mind and set his higher functions to dabbling in that. Language, cryptography, geography and geology, history, cartography– there were a lot of things he was keeping track of or trying to decipher at any given time, and such petty concepts as organizing anything he was not actively working at simply slipped his mind.

(Not that Rue himself was much better, but he also had much less stuff to deal with.)

He had been anticipating something similar in the back of his mind, but assumed that it must have been somehow contained by Klaus' wife. And, technically, it was. Everything was set aside, properly positioned, tidied, dusted.

It just turned out that Klaus had a rather massive collection of stuff.

It was like walking into a museum; a small, somewhat cramped museum that was trying to pretend it could technically accept guests but was not particularly good about it. There were chairs, and a couch, and also tribal masks, sets of old weaponry, collections of crystal, stone tablets, parchment paper held protected under heavy glass; there was artwork (both reproduction and original), rolls of elaborated woven carpet, books of notes, almost-sorted letters of correspondence; and, sitting on the couch, casual as one of the throw pillows, a three-foot wide and beautifully polished ammonite shell.

"Doctor," Rue began. "You have an... impressive collection."

"No need to be polite," Klaus said. "It's an impressive mess." He looked back and smiled warmly. "Just the store front, though. I sell some of my finds to fellow collectors when they come to Carona." He pointed to a particularly elaborate crown of feathers. "Remind me to set that one aside for Neil, dear?"

"Of course."

Once they had passed out of the greeting room, however, things became much more normal. There were a few odds and ends here – smaller pieces of artwork and statuary, mostly – but the second room was the family kitchen. Here Mira tossed the luggage into the corner and invited Rue to do the same with the cases he had been carrying, then carried herself over to the stove. A pot of something had been on the slow burner, keeping warm while Mira had gone to retrieve Klaus, and now that they were all sorting themselves at the table she turned the heat back up and let it boil again. The rich scent of tomato and spices filled the room, and Mira set about slicing bread, grabbing bowls, and loosely setting the table for three.

Klaus counted the plates. "Is Elena not home?" he asked.

"No," Mira said, sighing heavily. "She went to visit Mel this morning. She probably won't be back until sometime afternoon."

Klaus slid into the far chair, muttering a low "Hmm" in the back of his throat. He indicated the seat across from him, and Rue nodded slightly and sat down.

"So," Mira began, still attending to the soup on the stove, "tell me about this little bone-shattering incident in an atelier?"

Klaus managed a faint laugh. "Not shattering. I happened into an atelier that had already been cleared out. I was hoping that maybe there was something left to find, that somebody had left behind or missed– you know how ateliers are built. Magicians were quite fond of secret chambers, and the common looter doesn't think to look for them."

Mira smirked. "I'm aware."

"Well, I found the chamber."

There was a pause in the story, and Mira turned completely to face him. He was regarding her with a faint smile, and she couldn't help but laugh. "Underground," she said.

"Underground," he responded.

"With a weak ceiling."

"Recent tremors," Klaus explained. "There had been some minor earthquakes nearby within the last month or so. Most of the structure survived, but something underground was just waiting to break. I broke it."

"And yourself."

"Yes. Well."

She looked over to Rue. "And I suppose this is how you found my husband?"

He gave her a weak smile. "More or less."

"Rue was following the same information I was, but a few days behind. He–"

Klaus was interrupted when Mira wheeled to face him, suddenly pale.

"A few days!" she cried. "You would have died!"

Rue coughed slightly, drawing her attention again. "I, um, I think that's why he didn't send you a letter about it."

Almost instantly, Mira's fire died out, and she closed her eyes and shook her head. "Quite true," she said. "Quite true. So you... you dragged him out of the atelier and got him to town?"

"Quick as I could," Rue said. "But the atelier was quite a ways out into nature. I set his leg as best I could but it took a while to get back to somewhere with actual medical facilities." He nodded to Klaus. "I'm... not much of a doctor, of course."

"The bone set wrong," Klaus clarified.

"And yet you didn't decide to turn around and come home the instant you could," Mira said.

"I admit the idea had crossed my mind. However–"

"That may be my fault," Rue said quickly. "He told me about his work– what he was doing out there, at least. Turns out we were both looking for the same thing. I offered to help."

Klaus nodded. "And as he didn't have any crippling injuries, I thought it might be mutually beneficial. I collected a lot of information out there, it would have been a shame to let it go to waste for such a trivial reason."

"Trivial," Mira sniffed. She pulled up a bowl and ladled the tomato soup into it, sliding it onto the table in front of Klaus. "You're hopeless."

Klaus smiled. "It seems that way."

"Well," she said, pushing the next bowl toward Rue. "Thank you for making sure he didn't kill himself."

"Of course."

She finally served herself and sat down, and for a few moments they fell into silence as they ate. It didn't last long, though; after a few moments, once they were comfortably into the meal, Mira piped up again. "So you're also looking for a Relic?"

Rue jerked up, clearly caught off-guard by the question. "I'm sorry?"

"A Relic," she repeated. "Klaus took off for the mainland hunting for one. That's what you were also looking for, yes? Unless you just have an intense love of archeology."

"No," he said. "Just Relic hunting."

"Bit unusual," she continued. "That's not exactly a lucrative field. I was under the impression East Heaven had a stranglehold on most of them. The ones that are still functional, at least."

"'For the good of the people'," Klaus recited, grimacing.

Rue nodded. "I think that's the case," he said. "They don't let anybody but their own mages near them."

"That's dangerous business," she said. "It must be very important to you."

He mulled over the statement for a moment, his gaze unfocused, and nodded. "Yes," he said finally. "Very important."

She must have heard it in his tone, or else just respected his privacy, because she simply nodded and let the conversation fade. There were only a few more words exchanged between Klaus and Mira; Klaus had been good about sending letters to keep her updated about his progress (excepting, of course, the time he had nearly died), and Mira had little to report by way of events in Carona. The town was slow and quiet as it had ever been.

When lunch was done, Klaus excused himself from the table to attend to a few outstanding matters in his workroom, and disappeared through a door out the back of the kitchen. Rue tried to excuse himself as well, but before he could leave Mira caught him.

"Wait, wait," she said. "What are you planning on doing now?"

"Going outside?" he asked, a little thrown by the question. "I should probably find a place to stay while I'm here."

"I meant, what are you planning on doing here? In town? I appreciate you bringing Klaus back here safe and sound, but surely you're not going to stay as an assistant?" She dumped the dishes into the sink and ran them under a rinse, talking as she went. "I'm... I'm very thankful that you saw Klaus back home safely, but that doesn't seem like it will help if you're looking for a Relic."

"Oh." He thought about it, then shrugged helplessly. "I'm not entirely sure. We found some papers we haven't been able to interpret yet. I was... I guess I was going to stay in town until the next ship leaves, in case the doctor found anything in them. Everything I was following back home dried up."

"I see." She was quiet for a moment, then a moment more. "Here. Give me a few minutes to get this rinsed off, and I'll take you to Aggie."

Rue tilted his head. "Aggie...?"

"Aggie. Agatha Cartha. She runs the bed-and-breakfast on the edge of town square. I'll see if I can't haggle a discounted room for you."

Rue blinked, somewhat taken aback. "O-oh, thank you."

Mira shrugged. "Don't mention it. It's the least I can do for how you've helped my husband."


	2. Arrival

**Two || Arrival**

* * *

Mint stood at the edge of the ragged path that lead into the forest, wine-red eyes tracing their way as far as she could see before it was swallowed by the shadows of the forest. Looking up, over the tree line, she could just see the edge of the town's wall peeking out above the dense greenery. It looked...

...farther than she had thought.

"Seriously, Rod?" she asked, turning around and scowling. "This is the best you could do?"

A short distance away – smack in the middle of the little meadow, halfway between where Mint stood at the tree-line and where the bend of the river kissed the grass – a man was scraping away the debris that cluttered an old fire-pit. He was tall and lean, and possessed of a head of long, fiery red hair that was not hidden very much at all by his surprisingly dapper silk hat. The rest of his outfit wasn't quite so dapper; the pants were fine, but whatever the hell he had chosen for his torso had a bizarre combination of long sleeves and no abdomen, letting him show off a set of well-developed abs.

Apparently, he had not heard her; he continued scraping out ancient ashes and damp leaves and the beginnings of grass trying to poke through the earth. She watched him for a few seconds.

"And can you _please_ put on a shirt!"

At that, he stopped and turned his attention to her, leaning on the makeshift hoe he had been using.

"Is there something more you need, Mint?" he asked.

She ground her teeth. The way he had worded the question, there was only one answer; "No, not... not really."

It was somewhat her fault, anyway; Rod had been offering a ride out of the port and out to Carona at a deeply discounted price – minimal luggage, only one passenger, fastest ride you'll ever have – with the caveat that he just happened to have some extra space in the second cockpit of his boat and was headed not _quite_ to Carona, but to a little isolated hovel just outside the city walls. He had no intention of going up to the city, and no intention of paying the harbor's docking fee.

Mint had kind of assumed that he could just drop her off right outside the wall and she would work her way into the town that way.

Mint had also forgotten to take altitude into effect. Turned out was quiet difficult to land right next to Carona when Carona was sitting at the top of the cliff.

She didn't doubt that he was right – that this particular bend of the river was the closest he could get her to town while circumventing the harbor – but that didn't make her any less frustrated. She wanted to talk to one guy. _One guy_. She had already dragged herself across the continent and out to the middle of the ocean in her quest, and while another short hike was hardly much of anything compared to all of that, it was just one more thing on top of a cavalcade of other things and she was just sick of having to deal with that. With things.

She heard a bark and looked down. A little puppy, black furred with little white accents on his paws and ears and chest, had set himself down at her feet and was looking up at her with massive brown eyes and an equally massive puppy-grin. His tail was snapping back and forth so fast he was probably going to sprain something. Mint knelt down and scratched behind his ear, and an expression of absolute satisfaction crossed his face.

"You're all right, Johnny Wolf," Mint said. "Keep out of trouble."

Johnny Wolf barked.

"Oi!" Rod yelled. "No words for the man who got you here?"

"Not really!"

"Bah."

But as he cleared the last of the debris from the fir-pit, suddenly she did have words.

"You're not going up to town?"

She had not quite realized until that moment that whatever Rod was doing, he clearly had no intention of actually making his way to civilization. Already he was turning to the large pack of supplies he had brought and untangling gear strapped to the back, unfolding it into the items that would eventually construct a tent.

"No," he said, turning to face her again. His eyes were closed, his expression drawn and contemplative. "My work – my _artistry_ – is best done in silence and isolation. I come here so that I may be alone." One eye cracked open. "Other than Johnny Wolf, of course."

Well, of _course_.

"So your silence and isolation is spitting distance from a town."

He waved off her words. "A small town," he said, "of people who also value silence and isolation." His eyes opened completely. "And they have a wonderful bar."

She wondered if the man was actually listening to himself.

"_Supplies_," Rod said testily, seeing the expression on Mint's face. "This island is far enough away from civilization that I don't need to worry that it taints my inspiration, and I may stay here longer because I can return to town for food, when necessary. Her walls and the forest are enough to form a barrier between myself and those who might impugn on my craft."

Which sounded only slightly less crazy to Mint. But whatever; he could pilot that boat of his out here without killing them, and that was what had mattered.

"Right, well, have fun," she said. Then, looking down; "See you around, Johnny Wolf."

The dog barked at her again, and she rose and turned toward the forest. From behind her, Rod whistled, and she heard the tiny sound of puppy paws in the grass. She almost turned again to watch them – Rod was a nut-job, but she had heard him talk about _his art_ and she was curious about what he was going on about – but resisted the urge. The ways things tended to go for her, that was just an invitation to crazy.

Instead, she focused on the forest. Heavy boughs, thick foliage, dancing shadows. The breeze whistled by and sent whispers through the trees; movement up above made the dappled sunlight writhe across the ground. Not that this was anything she hadn't seen before; in fact, with everything in the forest so richly alive, it was probably one the more pleasant splays of trees she'd seen.

She absently flipped her strawberry-blond hair over her shoulder and reached to her sides, her hands brushing against the two thin golden hoops she had tied to her belt. Even with such gentle contact, they sent a little crackle of energy up through her, causing the hair on her arms to stand on end and prompting a dark grin to spread across her face. One last check of her supplies – money pouch, supply pack, energy-infused rings – and she stepped into the shadows of the trees.

The forest breathed cool against her as soon as she was out of the sun, and within only a few moments she found that the little side path she had been using opened up to something much more well-worn, clearly the main path through the forest. She took a look back and forth, found her bearings, and followed the path as it lazily wove its way up the incline leading to town. A gentle slope, a pleasant breeze, the scent of crushed leaves and tree sap– it was a bother to walk up to the town like this, but at least it was pleasant.

A few things flitted out of the corner of her eye; local wildlife, no doubt. She paid it no mind, and it seemed content to leave her alone. The sounds of the forest buzzed around her, but it was all quite muted; not far away, just keeping itself quiet. Leaves rustling, something snapping twigs, the buzz of insects, the–

–voice–

Mint stumbled to a halt, suddenly snapped out of her reverie, and stood still, listening. There was quiet for a few seconds, and she thought, for a moment she must have just been hearing things. But before she had taken another step it cut through the forest again– faint, distant.

Frightened.

She couldn't make out the words, but she waited again, eyes closed, and when the voice echoed through the trees again she had worked out its direction. She plunged off the path and into the forest, moving at a fast walk to weave through the trees and brush. The voice became a little clearer now – moving in the right direction – and now she could just about make out the words.

"Help!"

Which didn't tell her much, but she could work with it.

As she moved, the forest became a little brighter, the leaves and the trees themselves thinning out, although that invited more ground foliage and made moving through it just a little more frustrating. Up ahead, she could see the trees parted completely and opened out to sunlight, and with a final push she thrust herself out of the tree cover and nearly stumbled off a cliff.

Mint yanked herself to a stop just before the ground crumbled away beneath her and teetered for a moment, seized by vertigo. She stumbled back, away from the ledge, and blinked rapidly. Her head was starting to even out again, and her eyes were adjusting to the sudden explosion of sunlight after traversing the shadowy woods, and after a few seconds she was back to herself enough to take in what was going on.

She stepped forward, up to the edge of the cliff, and looked down. It wasn't really a substantial drop – maybe fifteen feet, at best – but it was sheer. Even that wasn't so much the problem, though; the end of the fall, which should have been into the soft loam of the forest soil, ended on solid rock.

She traced the rest of the area and felt a little trill of excitement run through her.

She could still see the forest, but it was further away, forming a ring around the vista in front of her. Down below, taking up a fairly large chunk of space, was what appeared to be the ruins of a building, or maybe a small series of building, all cracked stone and crumbling architecture. She couldn't tell how old it was, but much of it was overgrown with weeds or vines, and a central depression – probably once a room made for receiving guests – was filled with algae-crusted water, forming a pool around which she saw the distinct, lithe bodies of pollywogs swimming through the air. Near the pool a tree had broken through the stonework and grown around and into one of the walls, and now stood massive and proud over the ruins, casting an impressive swath of shade over the ruins.

As she looked, though, that glimmer of excitement flickered and faded. Despite the nature choking out the old buildings, the area actually looked fairly clean; much of the debris had been swept away, the detritus she expected to see already plucked up and taken. She didn't know why she had let herself get excited about it in the first place; Carona was home to one of the foremost Relic researchers on the planet. Any ateliers in the area would have long since been ransacked.

She almost pushed away from the edge when the voice floated up to her again, and she realized it was coming from somewhere in the ruins.

Mint stood up and looked around. Dropping from here would be painful, to the say the least, and she didn't quite trust herself enough to break her fall on the way down. But there had to be a way to get down there; clearly somebody had already managed it.

Her eyes raked across the edge of the cliff, and she saw it, a little ways further down; a series of weathered rocks jutting out toward the ruins. They looked a little awkward, but they formed a fairly clear set of steps that wound down to the ruin's level.

She made her way to the rocks and began to work her way down, a bit cautiously at first, but with more confidence once she was about halfway down, where the tops of the rocks flattened out and the consequences of falling became much less painful. She slid down the last rock to land at the base of the natural staircase, and looked around. Now, down at the level of the ruins, she couldn't help but feel that same excitement building a tight knot in her chest; she could almost smell the old magic that wound through the stones.

The voice called again, and Mint headed toward the origin of the sound.

"Calm down!" she yelled, ducking under a fallen pillar and emerging into the brightness of the courtyard, illuminated doubly by the sunlight dancing off the surface of the pool. She raised an arm to try and shield her eyes. "I'm comin'!"

Her second shout caused the pollywogs to snap around to face her. They hovered stock-still in the air, their large, liquid eyes focused on her. When she took another step, they wheeled, their thin tails lashing through the air as they shot off into the shadows of the ruins.

Mint took a few more steps, glancing around warily, until the voice came back to her; "Is somebody there?"

It was quieter now, but because the speaker was no longer shouting, or not shouting so loud. Mint could tell a few more things about the voice now; it belonged to a girl, probably a bit younger than Mint herself, and sounded muffled and hollow– echoing. She was under something, or inside.

"Yeah, somebody's here," Mint said. "Where are you?"

"I'm– I'm stuck. Something broke one of the pillars, and it fell in front of me. I– I can't move it..."

"You're inside somewhere?"

"Yeah, it's, um... the face."

Mint stopped for a moment, contemplating the statement, then responded, very levelly; "What the _hell_ does that mean?"

"Oh, sorry! Over the pollywog pool, there's this– this big ugly face-thing, in the wall. I– is that you?"

Mint stopped where she was and turned, taking in the area. She _was_ next to the pool, and she hadn't seen another one from above. But a face? She turned slowly, looking out one way – just the battered remains of the wall – then behind her. There was a shallow set of stairs leading up to some kind of structure– another wall, although this one was heavily accented by patterns and smaller statues. She couldn't make out anything that looked like a face–

But she saw why.

A pillar lay in front of the wall; it had fallen at an awkward angle, and the upper part of it had broken a new hole into the side of the wall. It was leaning up the stairs, and she could follow it to where it had recently cracked and crumbled; the damage hadn't yet weathered like the rest of the ruins. That must have been what the girl was talking about.

"Probably," Mint responded. She looked to where the pillar intersected the wall and ducked, trying to get a better look beneath it. "Can you reach out of there at all? Wave, or something?"

She saw a hint of movement in the shadows below the pillar, then an arm emerged. It groped around along the ground for a few seconds, then gave up and simply waved. Mint headed up the steps and sidled next to the opening.

"Found you," she said.

The arm retracted, and she heard movement from within. Then, suddenly, she was looking at a face, stuck under the shadow of the pillar, barely illuminated by the sunlight bouncing off of the white stone. Mint had been right; it was a girl, maybe ten or eleven years old, with light brown hair and large, dark blue eyes.

"Hello!" the girl said brightly. Her fear seemed to have vanished. "I haven't seen you before!"

"Just got into town," Mint said. She pressed her hand against the pillar and closed her eyes, listening to the soft hum of old power that still coursed through it. She opened her eyes again and found that the girl was still staring up at her, her eyes a little wider. Mint stood back up and stepped back. "How much room do you have in there?"

"Uh... a couple of feet, going back."

"Then get yourself as far back in there as you can," Mint said, her hands trailing to the two hoops at her side. "I haven't tried this too often."

"Tried what?"

"_This_," Mint growled. "Just move."

She heard a faint scrabbling from behind the pillar, and when she was sure the girl had moved out of the way, Mint grasped the hoops and pulled, yanking them free of their bindings. As soon as they hit her hands, the dull gold metal suddenly igniting, the faint patina burning away to reveal brilliant metal beneath. Their power coursed through Mint with a gentle, crackling heat that made her skin tingle and her heart palpitate in anticipation.

The magic burned through her blood, but that wasn't quite what she was looking for. Instead, she extended that energy and wrapped her mind around the magic that she had tasted when she had first arrived down here. It was ancient magic, long since unwoven, but she didn't need the old spells; she just needed that energy. She concentrated on it, grasped it in her mind, willed it to tangle into the kudzu that still strangled the pillar itself. She felt it tighten under her command, and steeled herself.

Then she clicked the rings together.

At once she felt a wave of energy as the kudzu vines gripped down on the pillar, cementing their position so strongly they actually bit into the stone, showering dust and particulate onto the ground. The vines leapt backward from the end of the pillar, meeting up with its shattered stone back and wrapping themselves tightly there. Then as one they stiffened, and with a lurch of power Mint could feel digging into her stomach the vines straightened themselves upward, dragging the mass of the pillar behind them. She gritted her teeth, and slowly the pillar settled fully into place, the web of vines holding it steady.

She exhaled all at once and pulled the rings apart from each other, leaving a trail of snapping sparks and the faint whiff of ozone. Mint was used to channeling magic directly through herself – it was how she had been taught, all those years ago, and it was what she had continued to teach herself – and commanding that kind of energy independent of her own body was still exhausting. Her extremities were shaky and her legs felt weak, but she also felt flush with the residual magic working its way through her, and she couldn't help but grin.

Nonchalantly as she could, she returned the rings to her sides, re-applying their loose binding to hold them in place, and looked up toward the wall.

The girl was still pressed against the far corner of the little room, staring at Mint with what could only be awe. Slowly, the girl extricated herself from where she was standing and stepped out into the sunlight. She was covered in dust and there were flecks of rock in her short-cropped hair, but other than that she looked to be in excellent health. She also looked to be practically _vibrating_ with excitement.

"That– that was amazing!" she cried, her already high-pitched voice somehow hitting a new octave. "How did you do that? That thing with the plants, and the– oh! Are you a witch? I know a witch, she can do cool stuff like that too, but I've never seen something like _that!_"

Mint simply folded her arms and stood up straighter, smiling. "Please, that was nothing," she said, trying hard not to sound breathless.

"But that _was_ magic, right? It had to be magic. _Are_ you a witch?"

"Nah," she said dismissively. "I'm just awesome."

This was enough of an explanation for the girl. "Oh, wow," she breathed. "Who– who are you?"

"Mint," she said. "_Princess_ Mint."

She had put special emphasis on that, as was only fitting; it wasn't every day that somebody got to meet a bona fide princess, after all, especially all the way out here in the middle of the ocean. That had to be worth another few points of adulation, at least.

Suddenly the girl slammed into her mid-section, wrapping her arms tight around Mint. Mint was caught so off-guard by the hug she barely had a chance to register what was going on.

"Thank you thank you thank you, Mint!" the girl cried. "I dunno what would have happened–"

"_Princess_ Mint," she grumbled.

"–if you hadn't come along, thank you!" The girl broke contact and almost danced a few steps back, breathing hard. She was exuberant, but now that Mint had another chance to look at her she was clearly tired; how long had she been trapped back there? "My name is Elena."

"Elena. O-okay." Mint shook herself off and looked at the girl again. She was fairly unremarkable, but–

"Elena," she started, her voice taking on a slightly syrupy tone. "You live in town, right?"

"Well, yeah!" she said brightly. "Not a lot of other places to live!"

True enough. "How about I walk you back to your parents? I'm sure they'll be grateful to see you're okay."

Elena seemed almost shocked by the words. "Oh! Of course." She looked up to the sky and traced out the path of the sun. "They'll start to worry if I'm not home soon. Thank you so much, Mint! I'll never forget this!"

_Princess_, Mint added in her mind, but it was apparent that if she pursued that she would be fighting a losing battle. "C'mon," she said, taking Elena by the shoulders and beginning to steer her back toward where Mint had gotten down. "Let's get you home."

The girl was chatty, and normally that would have driven Mint crazy, but at that moment she was counting it as a blessing. Elena would clearly be more than happy to recount this story of her fantastic rescue – hopefully embellish it – and Mint was already thinking of all the ways these poor parents could go about paying her back.


	3. Confluence

**Three || Confluence**

The edge of evening was visible on the horizon, and Mira was starting to get worried.

She had spent the afternoon making preparations for actual dinner – a celebratory demi-feast, in honor of Klaus' safe return – and helping Rue get himself settled in Mrs. Cartha's inn. Between that and spending some personal time catching up with Klaus, she had completely lost track of the day– and the fact that Elena was late coming home.

The island was not dangerous – there were a few predators out in the woods, but they were mostly nocturnal or crepuscular, and generally avoided the main paths through the forest. Elena had been busying herself exploring the forest or visiting Mel for the last couple of months, and Mira had not felt the need to supervise her closely after a short while. They had made an arrangement that had worked out perfectly: be back around mid-afternoon, before the sun is past the wall.

The sun was well past the wall.

Mira sent another look out the window. It was darkening within the town; the wall blocked the last hour or so of proper sunlight and plunged the town itself into a warm darkness before actual nightfall. Looking across the street she could see the lanterns flickering on in outside of the houses and businesses, and the major street lights were not far behind in blossoming into flame. She saw the large lanterns that flanked the forest-facing door suddenly ignite, and her chest tightened.

She returned to the kitchen, walking a little too fast. Klaus, reading through a few papers at the dinner table, heard the unusual rhythm of her steps and looked up.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Elena should have been back by now," she said. "She never stays out this late. What if something happened?"

Klaus started to say something reassuring, but found himself unable to formulate words. He had been away from the house for quite some time, and this particular routine – Elena wandering on her own during the day – was still an alien concept to him. And if Mira was worried, then he had no doubt he had good reason to be worried. Slowly, he pushed the chair away from the table and braced himself to stand.

"Don't worry about dinner," he said. "We should go have a look before it gets too dark out. We can grab a few people, form a search party... Graham is in town this time of year, right?" He shifted his weight, reaching for his cane. "Davis, Tonio, Jargen– I bet Annette would insist on coming with him– Rue would also help, I'm sure–"

"Sit down," Mira snapped, and Klaus stopped dead with what he was doing. "You're not going wandering in the middle of the woods with your leg like that." She looked toward the door, her eyes sliding toward the outfitted belt that she had left sitting on the couch. "I'll gather a few people and we'll have a look– oh, Rue, excellent timing!"

Rue stood in the doorframe, a little surprised by the greeting. "What's going on?" he asked.

Mira frowned. "Elena hasn't come home yet."

He was confused for a moment, but something visibly clicked in his head and he stiffened. "Your daughter?"

"Yes," Mira said. "I was hoping to ask for your help looking for her. She never came back from the forest..."

"Of course," he said. "Is there anything I should be aware of out there? Monsters, or...?"

Klaus made his way alongside Mira. "The tigers, probably," he said. "They do their hunting at night. There aren't too many of them, but..."

"I understand." Rue's gaze turned to the side and settled on Mira's belt. His expression changed, concern hardening into determination, and he reached for the belt– specifically, the short sword tightly sheathed to the side. He pulled it a few inches out of the sheath, his gaze raking over the powerfully sharp blade. "Can I–"

"Oh, here! Here, here, this is my house!"

Rue stumbled back and shoved the door fully open, and in his place there appeared a young girl running full-tilt into the house. Mira whirled to face her and caught her mid-stride in a hug.

"Elena!" she cried, setting the girl back down. "We were just about to go looking for you."

Behind her, tentatively, Rue slid the sword's blade back into sheath and tossed it lightly on the couch.

"I'm sorry," Elena said. "I was out over by the ruins–"

"The ruins I told you not go near," Mira said.

"Um... right." Elena shrank back slightly, her face burning red. "I just... I got a little turned around, I went to the ruins so I could figure out where I was better." She was waiting for Mira to say something, but when Mira remained silent Elena continued. "While I was looking around I thought I saw something, and then, well, I'm not sure what happened but I kind of got trapped there."

"How did you get _trapped_?"

"A column fell," another voice interjected. "Dunno how long she was in there, but I managed to get her out."

The voice was female, but spoke in a somewhat lower tone that made it sound almost boyish. It was also coming from just beyond the door frame; Rue stepped fully into the house to let the new speaker come in behind him. The girl did so without further invitation, appearing fully in the warm light of the house. She must have been in her mid-teens and was just shy of being as tall as Rue, although her hair – long, fine, and strawberry blond, pulled into a pair of oversized pigtails – made her seem younger.

Mira looked past Elena to the newcomer, then stood up fully. "I take it you got her out?"

"She did," Elena said quickly. "This is my friend, Mint."

Mint raised her hand. "Hey."

Klaus leaned out from the kitchen and looked around. "My, it's getting crowded in here."

"Daddy!"

Elena charged him next, and he barely had time to catch her before she bowled him over. He laughed and carefully adjusted himself. "Elena, careful! Your dad's getting old for that."

Mira looked over her shoulder and nodded approvingly. "That's not very nice of you to get lost on the day your father comes home."

Elena didn't say anything. Klaus hugged her back, then uneasily pulled himself back to his feet. "Come on to the table," he said. "You tell me about your adventure and I'll tell you about mine."

"Okay!"

Elena took off past Klaus, and he was not far behind her. They both disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Mira, Mint, and Rue in the forward room. Rue had slid into the couch to give the girls more room; however organized the good in that room were, it was still overcrowded for three people.

"Tell me what happened, please," Mira said.

"S'nothing major," Mint began. "I guess a column collapsed or something while she was looking around those old ruins. I got her out and brought her home." She said with a nonchalance that suggested there was more to the story and she was just waiting to get it out, but Mira chose to ignore it.

"Well, thank you for that," she said. "I wouldn't have thought to look over there until– thank you." Mira looked the girl up and down, then said, "I don't believe I've seen you here before."

Mint shrugged. "Just passing through," she said.

"I see." She indicated the kitchen. "We'll be settling down for dinner soon. Would you like to join us?"

"Ah, no," Mint said. "But I'm actually looking for somebody, if you can help me find him."

"Of course."

"Name's Klaus Adler. I see him name all over academic papers about ateliers and magicians and Relic and... that kind of stuff. Guess he lives out here?" She frowned. "Why're you laughing?"

Mira pressed her fist against her mouth, swallowing her chuckle. "I'm sorry," she said. "Just– you have _impeccable _timing. He just returned to town this morning."

Mint perked up. "Oh yeah? Where can I find him?"

Mira nodded back into the kitchen. "At the table," she said, "waiting for dinner."

Mint craned her neck to look around Mira. "That's...?"

Mira smiled, her eyes still laughing. "Would you like to reconsider my offer?"

Mint did.

She almost felt dizzy from the string of good fortune she was encountering; all she had wanted to do out on this island was find Klaus, pick his brain about anything he might be able to offer her, and then propel herself with that information into a new direction. She'd expected that it wouldn't really be easy to do, but had a few ideas for how she could surreptitiously prize the information out of him and use it for herself.

But now here she was, standing in his house, with the bonus of having him in her debt since she had saved his daughter. The odds of all of this working out so beautifully were staggering, and yet here she was. Everything to follow would be a simple task.

Mira bustled off to the kitchen to attend to dinner. Mint almost followed her, but stopped short when she suddenly recognized the other person who had been in the room. He was sitting on the couch, idly listening to the conversation that had just ended, and Mint regarded him through narrowed eyes.

"You've been quiet," she said.

He shrugged. "I didn't have anything to add."

"You part of this happy family?" But the instant she asked, she realized how unlikely it was; none of his colors or proportions lined up with the family seated in the other room.

He took the question in stride, though. "No. I've been working with Doctor Adler for a couple of months, is all."

She cocked an eyebrow. "How's that? Like, an assistant?"

"Something like that."

A little knot of ice formed in the pit of her stomach, and she looked at him more carefully and suddenly it crystallized.

Everything she had learned about Klaus suggested that he was in the racket because he was dedicated purely to pursuit of knowledge. He ran around scouting out ruins and ateliers, collecting artifacts and writing papers about the nature of Relics because he was fascinated by the science and the magic, the implications on anthropology, the advancement of information itself. It was a pure and almost admirable (if utterly wasted) dedication to the craft, and Mint had assumed that somebody who merely wanted to study the things would run no danger of wanting to use them personally.

The boy was different, though. Now that she was looking at him, his calm demeanor was an almost palpable front; his shoulders were a little too stiff, his bearing a little too rigid, the edges of his eyes a little too dark, his whole look just a little too ragged. It was subtle – if Mint didn't recognize the symptoms in herself, she probably wouldn't have noticed anything about him – but it seemed obvious to her that he had been associated with Klaus for the exact same reason she had tried to.

A threat, then.

Mint was abruptly shaken from reverie when the boy held out his hand to her, open-palm, and gave her a tired half-smile. "Rue Artema," he said.

She shook off her confusion and took his hand, shook. "Mint," she said simply. When they broke contact, she regarded him carefully again, and an errant question tickled the back of her mind. There was something...

"Come on," Mira said, sticking her head through the open doorway. "Dinner's ready."

Rue nodded to Mint to let her go first, and she did, slipping into the next room. She checked the seating arrangement to see if she could bury herself surreptitiously somewhere near Klaus – for pleasant dinner conversation, of course – but Elena was sitting across from him and Mira next to him and the other two chairs had been somewhat haphazardly pulled up at the far end of the table. She took the one closest to him, anyway, and as soon as she sat down her plate and bowl and glass were quickly populated by food as Mira made her rounds.

She figured she could segue into the conversation, but before she had a chance he was actually speaking directly to her. "Mint," he said. "Elena tells me you can perform magic?"

She grinned and directed her attention to her fingernails, the perfect picture of faux humility. "I dabble," she said serenely.

"Not many people just dabble," Rue said, pulling into the last remaining chair. "That's no small accomplishment."

Mint flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Yeah, well, not many people are me." And much as she liked to have her abilities acknowledged, this was not a conversation that she necessarily wanted to have; there were more pressing concerns. She turned her attention back to Klaus. "I've been looking for you."

"I get that sometimes," he said. "Mira, do we have any tea?"

She made a little noise of frustration and shook her head. "No, sorry. I meant to go to the market today."

"Pity."

Mint felt the edges of her fingernails digging into her skin.

"Right, yeah," she said, trying to keep her impatience reigned in. "Anyway, I've seen your name come up a lot in relation to Relic research, and–"

"Of course," he interjected. "My old papers, I assume. Or work colleagues."

"Yeah." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rue looking in her direction. She ignored him. "Lots of fun stuff. You ever go anywhere with that?"

"You mean, did I ever find a proper, functioning Relic?"

"Or an idea of where one might be."

He took a sip from his glass, set it back down, and said, "Not a one."

For a moment, Mint was silent. Then, with a little less fervor; "You mean... you never found any Relics or you don't have any clues."

"Both." He leaned forward, bringing his eyes level with Mint's. "I've been away for several months following a rather circuitous trail of information. I only got back to town this morning. This expedition was the result of a culmination of most of the knowledge I have gained over the course of my studies. I found a great deal of things. But no Relics. And no further indication of any."

Mint's shoulders fell. "_Nothing_?"

"It's been a thousand years since Relics were produced," Klaus said. "We've found many of them, and learned of the destruction of many more, and exhausted the power of several we've already found. Of the Relics we know exist, there aren't many left to be unearthed, and for all the searching that's been done over the years only two or three were ever found that weren't mentioned in the old records. I'm sure there are some still out there, but when I left on my trip I was under no delusions that it was anything more than a long shot."

Mint gritted her teeth, but held her tongue. Frustrating, to say the least, but if she had to have all of her hopes dashed – again – then at least it had happened quickly.

"But you found papers," Rue said. "There might be something in them."

"Of course," Klaus said. "There is plenty left to be discovered." He looked back to Mint. "But if you were hoping I could draw you a map to a Relic, I'm afraid I simply can't."

She snorted. "Right. Of course."

Silence fell for a few minutes, the gathering concentrating on the meal, when suddenly Mira spoke up.

"Elena... what did you say you were doing at the ruins?"

Elena looked up. "Oh, um... I got kind of turned around, out the forest? But I saw the ruins were nearby so I headed over to them and figure out where I was trying to go."

Mira leaned over, nodding slightly, her spoon clicking against the edge of her plate. "I see," she said. "So how did you wind up trapped inside something?"

Elena tilted her head, briefly confused, and then suddenly jolted upright. "Oh! Oh, right, I forgot!" She reached down to the hem of her dress and un-knotted the edge. When she returned back to table level, she held out her hands. "I saw this pressed up near the big face statue!"

Mira leaned across the table and plucked it from Elena's hands. She settled back into her seat, turning the thing over a few times, then held it out so she could get a better look. The thing Elena had picked up was coated in a thick green patina and still partially covered in obscuring dirt, but Mira ran her thumb across the surface, revealing a glimmer of bronze. She turned it over and showcased the shape of it; it was oblong, ending in a dull point on one side while the other ended flat but flared out into two thin projections, each a half-circle that didn't quite meet the other side, reinforced by thin spokes linking them back to the main body of the thing.

Klaus slowly, gently laid his fork on the table and reached up for the object. He took it from Mira and looked at it carefully, adjusting his glasses to see better. He looked back to Elena.

"You got this from the... ruins?" he asked. "Cadomon's laboratory?"

Elena nodded. "It's pretty, isn't it? I think something was knocking things over back there, 'cuz it was pressed up in this big crack next to the face that I don't remember seeing before."

Klaus bit his lip, then looked down the table. "Hand this to Rue," he said, and Mira passed it down. Rue took it and turned it over a few times, using his napkin to try and clear away a bit more of the dirt.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"I'm not..." Klaus hesitated. "Not entirely sure. Do you feel anything from it?"

_Feel anything?_ Mint wondered.

Rue closed his eyes and concentrated on the thing, and after a few seconds nodded slowly. "Yeah," he said. "There's something here." He looked up and focused on Mint, then flipped the thing around to her. "You dabble in magic," he said. "I bet you can tell better than I can."

She accepted it and understood immediately what he meant. The object was alive, warm knots of energy twisted up under its surface; and, more powerfully, held within it. There was a web of magic constricted its insides, and within that web she felt the core of a powerful spell throbbing against her palm.

"Oh yeah," she said. "This has some kind of spell woven into it." She frowned. "It's locked, though."

"It's a key," Klaus breathed, and inhaled sharply. "My god. It's the key to the library."

Everyone except Mira stared at him.

"The... library?" Mint asked.

"Yes, the–" He shook his head. "Give that here, please, I need to check for an insignia." Mint handed it back over the table to him, and he took it from her with more force than she had expected. He flipped it back over, rubbed away some of the grime, froze.

Rue rose from his seat to get a better look at what Klaus was doing. "Sir?" he said gently. "What is it?"

"I'm going to have to have a better look at it," he said. "Have to clean it up properly. But I think..." He looked up. "Rue, meet me tomorrow morning, eight o' clock. Mira, if you'd like to come..."

"Somebody has to provide adult supervision," she said. She tried to be cavalier about it, but there was no hiding the hint of excitement in her voice.

"Of course." Now he looked to Mint. "I hate to impose, but your magic may be beneficial once we're inside. I would like to ask for your assistance."

She almost moved to say 'no' on principle, but stopped herself short. Granted, she had absolutely no idea what Klaus was talking about, but if they were holding a key – and judging by the way the magic had been woven, Mint was almost certain of it – that meant whoever had crafted it was very interested in keeping something safe. Or hidden. Hidden and safe.

So, after a few seconds of contemplation, Mint responded.

"Yeah, sure."

"_Excellent_," he said, and without another word shoved himself out of his seat and away from the table, making his way to the room in the back.

Mira leaned over her chair, calling back to him; "Do you want the rest of your dinner?"

"I'll be right back!" he called, already sounding distant and muffled.

Mira looked at the clock hanging on the wall. "I give him two hours before he notices he's still hungry," she said. "Maybe three."

Mint frowned. "He could have at least explained what he was talking about."

"Don't press it," Rue said. "He'll tell us what we need to know tomorrow. Tonight..."

"Tonight he's off in his own little world," Mira said. She sighed, but she was still smiling. "Hasn't been back a day."

Elena looked between the three of them, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "I made Dad happy, huh?"

Mira closed her eyes and smiled. "Very."


	4. Cadomon's Library

**Four || Cadomon's Library**

* * *

"Cadomon was the last notable magician to call Carona his home," Klaus said. "His work is dated back about one-hundred fifty years, give or take. Cadomon is a rather obscure name among those who research the old wizards – his actual magical contributions are very minor – but there is some indication that he was a dedicated historian."

He was walking ahead as he spoke, leading the way through the forest, trailing behind him Rue, Mint, and Mira. He had abandoned the main footpath a fair while ago and was now working his way through the thick of the trees, following a faintly-battered footpath that wound broadly through the forest. Probably not the ideal range of travel, but Klaus was certain of the direction he traveled in and Mira had raised no objections.

"What you saw yesterday, Mint, were the remains of Cadomon's primary laboratory. He–"

"Wait," Mint said. "That doesn't sound right."

"Because they're too new?" Klaus asked, looking over his shoulder. She nodded, and he nodded back. "Good eye. They're quire recent to be in such disrepair. We don't have any solid evidence one way or the other, but there were some minor indications that Cadomon was working on something important at the time, and during this work _something_ occurred and destroyed the building. Any indication of what truly happened, or what Cadomon was working on, has been lost."

"But that wasn't his only site," Rue said.

"It was his only work site, at least that we're aware of," Klaus clarified. "But it was not the only site he controlled, no." He slowed down slightly. The trees were starting to grow more densely. "As I said, Cadomon himself is referenced more as a historian than a magician, and the reason for that– ah, here."

Klaus pushed forward, deeper into the woods, and for a moment neither Rue nor Mint could understand exactly why. He seemed to be headed for more trees, and as they looked there was no indication of anything but trunks and leaves and shadows. Just forest.

And, as Rue realized with a little start, no Klaus.

"Where is he?" he asked tentatively, and nearby Mint shot a glance around the forest.

"Huh," she said, and then stepped forward. Almost immediately she stopped short, looked up, and grinned. "Oh. _Oh_. Not bad."

And with that unhelpful statement, she continued forward. Within another moment she was suddenly swallowed by the shadows, the edges of her silhouette melting into the dark of the woods. Another few seconds and she had been reduced to a smudge of light pink and deep blue standing at odds with the deep browns and greens of the trees; and a moment after that, she was gone.

"Klaus probably should have mentioned that," Mira said, smiling gently as she approached from behind. "It's an illusion veil."

Rue frowned. "I've heard of these," he said. "Never seen one before."

"Most of them have long since petered out," Mira said. "Cadomon's is new enough that it's still holding. Come on."

She pressed forward, fading into the barrier, and Rue followed a few seconds after her. There was a sensation of heat prickling against his skin, a chill radiating from somewhat behind his eyes, and everything around him began to blur and fade into itself, leaving him briefly suspended in an abstract limbo of deep shades and a splash of pale blue. He pressed on, and slowly the remnants of the deep forest dissolved, replaced by the impressions of something much brighter. Then, abruptly, he stumbled out of the hazy between and found himself standing out in the open, briefly blinded by sunlight. He blinked. His eyes adjusted. He stared.

Where there had been thick forest now stood an massive clearing, ringed by the shimmering edge of the tree line and lit bright and green in the sun. It was impressive enough that this open space had been concealed, but what stood ahead of him, its entrance standing smack in the middle of the field, was a wood-and-brick building two storeys tall and significantly wider at the base. Its build reminded him of a cathedral, all sloping angels and rising points and enormous circular windows, and even bore along its edges the grimacing figures of gargoyles.

Klaus was standing about halfway between the tree line and the building, leaning on his cane, admiring the work. It was a beautiful thing; it bore the faint, weathered edges of age, but stood strong and tall, completely oblivious to how out-of-place it was in the midst of the forest.

He looked over his shoulder to see that the rest of them had passed through the veil. Mint was already closing the distance between them, and Mira was taking a casual stroll, her eyes cutting across the meadow and the treeline. Rue tried to shake off the lingering disorientation and headed toward Klaus.

"As I was saying," Klaus began, "Cadomon's laboratory was the first site found until somebody stumbled upon this– his library."

"Where he keeps the good stuff," Mint said.

"So we assume," Klaus said. "Nobody's been inside since Cadomon died."

Mint walked past him and then broke into a job, clearing the rest of the way up to the building. She ran up the steps leading to the door and came to a stop, stared at it for a moment, then backed away and stared at it again. Then, slowly, she backed her way down the steps and half-turned to face the others.

"There's gotta be something in there," she said. "You don't plant a magic-locked building in the middle of a forest and waste all your time casting veils on it for kicks and giggles."

"So we hope," Klaus said.

Rue walked past Klaus and approached the building, trying to peer through the windows as he went. It did little good; while the building was in remarkable shape for its age and its isolation, the exterior was covered in over a century of dirt and dust, and the glass in the windows had clouded, making looking inside impossible. He gave up on the idea and just headed to the door, sliding past Mint to have a look.

The building was impressive, but it was also relatively simple, other than the stonework that had constructed the gargoyles. The door leading inside was similarly simple; two large wooden double-doors, held together by an aged bronze seal. There was no indication of anything such as handles or knobs or even a slot that one could grip the door from, and when he touched it he felt a flicker of warmth and saw the wood shimmer under his hand.

Finally, Klaus approached the building, his hand fishing into the pouch at his side.

"I'm glad this seal is here," he said. "For archival purposes, I mean. Whatever Cadomon hid inside hasn't been touched by human hands since this place was sealed." He was grinning now, and it was impossible to hide the glee creeping into his voice. "We are going to be the first living things inside this building in more than a century!"

"If that's the key," Mint said darkly.

Klaus ignored her. He removed the key from the pouch and made his way up the steps, standing in front of the door. He inhaled deeply, held the thin edge of the key up to the bronze seal, and pressed.

Then there was a sound, the dull _wuff_ of air from a closing door. The doors shimmered – the whole building gleamed – and Klaus yanked the key back and took a few steps away. As he did, slowly– gently– the doors broke apart and eased outward. Ancient, stale air tumbled out of the growing entryway, disgorging with it the scent of old paper and mildew and a gout of dislocated dust. Klaus turned away and shielded his face with his arm; behind him, Rue and Mint scrambled back from the thick of the cloud.

Then the door settled. The breeze caught the dust and threw it toward the forest. Klaus exhaled and looked up.

"We're in," he breathed. "We're in!"

He ran inside, fast as his bad leg would allow. Rue was on his tail immediately.

"Doctor, wait, there might be–"

But before he could speculate about what there might be, he stopped short.

His eyes adjusted to the light as best they could, but it was bad; the windows were clouded over and allowed only a sickly stream of sunlight into the room, further choked by the whorls of dust they had kicked up into the air. The best light source they had was the sunlight reflecting off of the wooden floor, casting a vaguely reddish light up through the rest of the building. But even in spite of the bad light, they could see just what they had.

It was certainly a library, on a grand scale; what Rue had taken to be a second storey was little more than a platform that allowed one to reach the next level of the bookshelves, which rose floor-to-ceiling on either side of them. The walls were covered in books and papers and strange artifacts the design of which he could not even begin to guess at, the contents overflowing onto the threadbare carpet. Directly ahead was a staircase, simply ornamented, leading up to that second floor, and on either side, attached loosely to the walls, were the cracked remains of wooden ladders leading to the upper shelves. And in the middle of the atrium, standing tall and large and slightly askew, was a rusting metal printing press.

Klaus made his way to the first shelf he saw, snatching a random book out of its place and thumbing through it. He slid it back and checked another one, his brow furrowed. Then a third.

"Geography," he said finally, and shoved it back into place and moving on to the shelves on the other side of the room. He flipped through a few more books. "Mathematics." He returned those to their spots.

Mint barged up the steps behind Rue and came to a stop only a few paces in front of him, holding the edge of her shirt up against her nose to filter the air. She looked around, then looked straight up, and Rue followed her gaze to the center of the ceiling, where a rather impressive chandelier hung overhead, its crystal-work faded and dusty, fine metalwork overwhelmed by cobwebs.

Her body language said everything before she even spoke again.

"What a dump."

"What were you expecting?" Rue asked.

She snorted. "A better haul than this."

"It's a library," he said. "I doubt he would have kept 'haul' here."

She waved him off and stomped off to another section of the building, opening a brief path through the dust as she went. Rue watched her for a few seconds, then sighed and turned to face the library again. He didn't like to admit it, but despite his words he agreed with her; he had been hoping for something... different. Surely out of all these books there would be something he could make use of, but there was just so much to dig through...

He looked up near the wall scanned until he saw a torch bracket sticking out between two of the long shelves. Experimentally, he twisted the knob at the base, but nothing happened. Not that he expected the spells to hold together for so long, but it would have been nice to get a little more light in the place. What little sunlight they had was simply not enough.

He heard another set of footsteps and turned toward the entrance as Mira stepped into the building.

"Look at all this," she said quietly. "This is... there must be centuries worth of works in here."

"Some very old things, yes," Klaus called, his voice echoing back through the atrium. "But it's not all unique. A lot of these books are much newer– he must have been re-creating them with the printing press. Translating them, too. He was making new editions."

Klaus returned to the open part of the atrium and looked to Mira.

"I'm going to see what I can find down here," he said. "Could you check upstairs for me? Set aside anything that looks interesting."

"Of course."

She headed up the stairway, and Klaus' attention turned to Rue.

"It looks like most of this was written a few hundred years ago," he said.

Rue clenched his teeth and looked at the nearest book shelf. "Yes," he said. "I'm... not sure of what help I can be in here."

"Perhaps not with the books. But it can't help to have as many eyes open as we can. Some of these devices, at least, might hold some significance. Or at least interest."

"Yes, sir."

"All right. I won't be going far from here if you happen on anything."

Klaus returned to studying the bookcases, and Rue frowned to himself and looked behind him. The doctor was right; Rue had never learned any of the older languages, and though he technically recognized the script looping on the spines of the books, he had no idea what to make of it. Idly, he reached for a torch bracket protruding from the wall and played with the small knob at its base, seeing if there was any magic still woven inside. Disappointingly, though not unexpectedly, nothing happened; whatever had lit the torch all those years ago had long since come undone.

Wouldn't have helped him much, but it was worth a shot.

So, while Klaus continued to peruse the books on the lower floor and Mira took the ones above, Rue wandered the library. The whole thing was effectively one massive room; the atrium was flanked by two wings, both of them stuffed with shelves and books but not divided into any individual rooms. There were a few bits of furniture here and there – ancient couches long since worn to threads and disintegrating wood, the cracked remains of chairs, individual spires of metal that had once been used as lamps – and some dust-caked and faded artwork hanging on the walls, but nothing really stood out to him. The devices that sometimes stood on the shelves ranged from old sculptures and art to astrolabes and compasses, and he knew that it all had significant historical value, but after a couple of hours digging through corners and shifting around books, he couldn't help but feel cheated.

At some point he had wandered into the other wing – same as the first one he had checked – and was in the process of staring down another piece of ancient art when movement caught his eye. He looked up and saw Mint approaching him. He set the piece down and turned to face her.

"Mint," he said.

"Yeah, me," she responded. "You find anything good?"

"Can't say I have."

She frowned. "Didn't think so." She looked around, resting her chin in her hand, and continued, quite conversationally; "This place seem kinda weird to you?"

He considered the question, then shrugged. "Not particularly. Not for a magician's home, certainly. Is something bothering you?"

"It doesn't seem right," she said. "He didn't want the library found, and he went and hid the key inside a statue to make sure nobody he didn't want finding it would find it. This isn't about books."

Rue thought for a moment. "No," he said. "No, he isn't. Klaus said he was probably re-making them–"

"I heard."

"–so he wasn't worried about people finding them. He wanted to distribute them. And this place isn't air-tight– water got in somehow. Most of the books are okay but I'll bet quite a few were damaged or destroyed."

The edge of her lips twitched into a smile. "Right. He veiled the area and sealed the building. If he wanted to protect the books, it wouldn't have taken much more to do it. He wasn't protecting books."

Rue suddenly jolted. "The printing press."

Mint blinked. "What? No, he– he better not have shut this place up for a piece of crap antique like that. You actually look at that thing? It's falling apart."

"No, I don't mean... hold on."

Something was trying to break through the cloud of uncertainty– _something_ about that press had caught his attention. He ran back to the atrium and to the printing press and stared at it again. There was nothing out of the ordinary that he could see – the metal was rusted and the wood turned soft and porous from years of trapped humidity – but he knew there was something wrong. There was something he was missing, or something he _knew_ but couldn't _place_. He walked around it, little clouds of dust swirling up from his footsteps, and then came to a stop behind it. He was facing the door now; a long shaft of sunlight passed through the opening, illuminating the machine.

He looked down at the floor.

Sunlight cast a glow on the dust particles rippling through the air. Down below, where he had just walked, the dust twirled lazily back to the ground. Slowly, he made his way to the front of the press again, his eyes raking the floor, and he realized what he had seen.

It sat _askew_.

And there, near the front-most corner, he saw the plume of dust. While so much of it had already settled back in place, there was a little area that continued to whorl gently upward, just an inch or two, as though the floor were exhaling.

Heavy footsteps followed behind him, and a few seconds later Mint was at his side, staring at the printing press.

"Don't _do_ that," she said sharply. She looked at the press, then at him, then back to the press. "What's your point?"

"We need to move this."

She gave him a sidelong glance, then directed her attention once more back to the printing press. Her eyes narrowed and her gaze raked up and down the thing. As she stood next to him, her stance changed; it was subtle, a relaxation of the shoulders, a faint exhalation, but he knew that she had seen the same thing.

"All right," she said. "Let's try it."

Together, the lined up with one side of the printing press, right up near the corner, and pressed against it.

"Ready?" Mint asked.

"Ready," Rue said.

"Go!"

They shoved.

The press resisted, but after a few agonizing seconds where the machine seemed immobile it suddenly lurched slightly, and they threw everything they had against it. The machine groaned and creaked and made a terrible scraping sound as the metal edge dug a heavy furrow into the moldering carpet and the floorboards beneath, but slowly – painfully – Rue and Mint had the thing mostly turned around.

They broke away from it, both shaky and panting, and Rue took the chance to stagger a few more paces away, trying to catch his breath. He swallowed, closed his eyes, sucked in air through his teeth, and finally heard the voice.

"What's going on?"

He looked up to see Klaus rounding the stairs. Rue gathered himself and pointed down.

Beneath him, a large chunk of the carpet had been torn loosely from the floor. In the middle of that, cut into the exposed floorboards, was the clear outline of a trap door.

. .

They spent a fair while trying to get at the door. There was no handle they could grasp, or even groove that they could grip, but Mira had the foresight to bring her short sword and with a little finagling and a lot of shoving, they managed to slot the sword between the edge of the trap door and the actual floorboards and jimmy it open that way. The door was heavy, and flipping it open took a good deal of coordinated strength and leverage, but after a fair bit of pain and work they managed between the four of them to push the trap door completely open.

The door led downward, but more than that they could not say; the sunlight only reached a few feet down into the shaft, and while they could see a steel ladder providing footing for the descent even that melted into darkness only a few feet down. There was no telling how deep the hole was, let alone what was in it.

"We need a torch," Klaus said.

"Not necessarily," Mira replied. She looked over to Mint. "Can you cast illuminations?"

Mint was quiet for a few seconds, then nodded. "Yeah. Gimme a little space."

Klaus, Mira, and Rue all took a few steps back, and Mint reached for her golden rings. They sparked and flared to life when she touched them, and when she touched them together they both suddenly erupted into brilliance, glowing bright even in the sunlight. She tossed one down into the opening, and the ring landed on the ground about fifteen feet below, its wavering light showing the end of the ladder and revealing the edge of what appeared to be a room.

"I'm going first," she said. "That enchantment won't last long without me."

Nobody objected. Mint stepped onto the ladder and lowered herself down into the shaft, grabbing the ring once she reached the bottom. Without waiting for any word or indication, Rue followed right behind her, descending the ladder and landing on the solid floor shortly thereafter.

Already Mint was walking further into the room, but there wasn't much place to go. It was a small wooden chamber with an uncomfortably low ceiling and not much by way of actual standing space. The walls were lined with shelves containing yet more books, although far fewer in number, and a desk was pressed up against the far wall, a chair tossed haphazardly alongside it. The desk itself bore a scattering of books and yellowed parchment.

Mint sighed.

"Oh good," she said. "Even _more_ paper products."

Rue plucked a book off the nearby shelf and opened it. He thumbed through the pages, glossing over what he was seeing. After a moment, however, he came to a stop, suddenly focusing on the words.

"I can read this," he said.

Mint looked over her shoulder. "Hmm?"

"This is fairly modern," he said. "I can read this."

Klaus' voice sudden rang from above. "What's down there? Do you need any help?"

Rue flipped through a few more pages. It was all notes and sketches and crudely drawn maps. The handwriting was neat and tight, but it was also all over the pages, written at odd angles or in quicker, sloppier script, made in small notes on top of doodles, crossed out or written over. He couldn't make sense of most of it, not without more context, but he knew what it was.

"We might," he called up. "But there isn't a lot of room down here, we'll need to haul it out."

"What is it?"

"Cadomon's research."

There was silence from above. Rue replaced the book on the shelf and made his way to the far table, where Mint was now looking at the loose parchment with a great deal of interest.

"Think you're right," she said, shuffling through some papers. "This's just some diary crap, but..."

She trailed off, looking closely at another sheet of paper. She smoothed it out, then nodded over her shoulder. Rue stepped forward to take a closer look.

"This look like Carona?" she asked.

It was a map, but not just of the town; Carona's walls were demarcated on one of the corners. The rest of the map spread out to show the remainder of the island, with a bevy of notes and observations, most of them clustered around a particular area. He didn't look too deeply at the observation notes, but a single note – "Atelier?" – popped out at him almost immediately.

"Yeah," he said. "I think it's the island."

A low mechanical groan sounded behind them, and Rue looked over his shoulder to see Mira hop off the ladder and approach. She leaned around them, regarding the contents of the desk, then wordlessly stepped over to one of the shelves. She looked through one book, then another.

"Not just Cadomon," she said. "He was looking into the work of another magician."

"What manner of work?" Rue asked.

She shook her head. "I can't read it. He's got some notes scribbled in the margins here, but they don't make sense out of–"

She stopped, stared hard at the book in her hand, then suddenly quick-stepped back to the ladder. She shimmied up the ladder with surprising speed, and from the top of the passage conversation – unintelligible, quickly spoken – funneled down into the room.

Then, Klaus' voice.

"Pick up everything you can," he said. "Empty the room."

"Too much stuff for one trip," Mint said.

"Then make as many as you need. Bring everything out." His voice went distant, no longer talking directly down to them, but they could still understand the words. "Will we need a cart?"

"Yes," Mira said. "I'll go back to town and see if Davis will loan me a loading palette."

"Good. Go."

There was a faint sound of footsteps, disappearing quickly. Rue felt something tighten in his chest. Klaus' tone of voice was flat, fast, businesslike. He had not heard it too often when the two had been working together back on the mainland, but he recognized it implications and could not help feel a little ripple of excitement under the skin.

"What's going on?" Rue asked.

"The reason Cadomon kept this a secret," Klaus said. "He wasn't just preserving knowledge. He was looking for a Relic."


	5. Findings

**Five || Findings **

* * *

_Maybe this won't be a wasted trip_, Mint thought.

They had cleared out most of the paper contents of the room. Rue was busy hauling up another set of them while Mint was, ostensibly, collecting the last remnants of goods to be pulled back up into the library proper. And she was doing that, kind of; she was just lingering a bit longer than normal on some of the papers, hoping to maybe catch a tidbit of information that could point her where she wanted to go.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much. All of the good stuff was probably squirreled away in the books, and Klaus had asked them to concentrate on bringing those up first so he could begin examining them himself. It wouldn't have been easy to get a look at them while they were moving those, and anyway it wouldn't have been easy to zero in on what she was looking for. Not that she was entirely sure what she was looking for; the passage Mira had found had been tucked away in a scribbled mess of doodles and notes and partially written in the language of old magicians. Klaus had been able to decipher it, but Mint was lost.

"Any more down there?" Klaus called.

She frowned to herself and shoved all the papers together into a loose heap, then took one last look around the room, checking for anything behind the shelves or the desk or tucked away in the corners of the room. But for all the double-checking she found nothing else out of the ordinary, no more strange artifacts sitting on top of doors or knotted spells waiting in the creases of the floorboards.

"This is the last of it," she called, and, papers in hand, she returned to the ladder. She dismissed the light from her rings and was plunged immediately into darkness, but she didn't need their illumination anymore; she could plainly see the opening above her, the chandelier positioned almost directly overhead, and she had gone up and down the ladder enough times in the last forty minutes to know where the rungs were. She tied the rings on to her belt again, tucked the papers under her arm, and clambered back up the ladder.

Back up top she tossed the papers onto the floor and yanked herself out of the opening. She emerged into the center of a pile of books and papers. Nearby, Rue was busying himself by straightening up a stack of their recovered goods; a little further away, using the printing press as a seat, Klaus was rummaging through the books Mira had initially shown him.

"So," Mint began, projecting her voice to Klaus. She couldn't tell if he'd heard her, but she went on anyway. "Nobody's ever found a Relic out here?"

There was a pause for a few seconds. Agitation gnawed at her stomach, and she almost repeated herself – louder, and a little less politely – when Klaus looked up.

"No," he said. "No, this is... this is all new to me. Magicians have lived here – quite a few, actually, given how out of the way Carona is – but I've never seen anything about an Aeon having lived out here. Of course a Relic might have been brought in by a magician, that's certainly a possibility..." He scratched the back of his neck and returned to the book. "It would certainly explain the disproportionate number of magicians that used to live here, actually."

"How's that?" Mint said.

Klaus was quiet again, but this time when he looked up he set the book down next to him. "Magicians were never very numerous," he said. "Being a magicians, the way we understand it, isn't the same as being able to use magic the way some people learn it today. Magicians dedicated themselves to their craft; from youth to death they honed their skills, built laboratories and workshops to experiment and craft, and scoured the world for artifacts that would improve their power. Many magic users tried to do this, but only a handful of them truly succeeded. Because of that, they tended to keep very much to themselves and jealously guarded what they had found. Magician ateliers are scattered around the globe, but magicians almost never built their workshops near other, contemporary magicians. If there are two ateliers built near each other, then one of them is invariably much older than the other."

"So...?"

"So," Klaus continued, "there is some evidence that at one point, Carona housed a handful of magicians who built their ateliers and conducted their research simultaneously– perhaps in conjunction with one another. It's mostly supposition and extrapolation, admittedly, but from what I've seen in Cadomon's notes he had reached the same conclusion and was trying to pinpoint their ateliers." He paused, and his expression lost some of its spark. "Although Cadomon was always physically frail. He was very prolific, as you can see, but he died quite young and never reached the end of his search."

"But there was a search," Rue said suddenly. "There was a map down there..."

"Right," Mint said, and practically dove into the stick of papers, rummaging around until she came back with the paper they had found lying on the desk. She unfurled it and flipped it around for Klaus to get a better look at. "This thing. He's got an atelier marked on the map."

"Bring that here, please," Klaus said, and Mint obliged, although she only brought it over for him to see; she wasn't quite ready to give up the map. Klaus leaned over and took the corner of it so he could get a better look, his brow creased. "I'm not sure," he said finally. "He might have discovered something, but... I'll have to look through the rest of the documents."

Overhead, the chandelier suddenly swung, its hanging crystals clicking against each other and sending out a strange, ethereal chime. Klaus looked up, then leaned over to look out the door.

"Somebody passed the barrier," he said. "It did that earlier when Mira left. She must be back."

Rue went to check the door. While he did, Mint tugged on the map, slipping the edge out of Klaus' loosened grip and rolling it back up.

"It's Mira," Rue said. "She's brought a float and a few crates."

"Perfect," Klaus said, sliding unsteadily off the press. "Start gathering up the books, please. The quicker we get these away the quicker we can get back to town and the sooner I can look at them properly."

They returned to Carona by mid-afternoon, after packing up the findings, scouring the little room one final time, and closing up the room behind them. The walk had been exhausting, between dragging the float across the bumpy forest path and forcing it uphill to the actual town, but once they were through Carona's forest-facing gate and onto the stonework streets, the trip became a simple act of navigating the short distance to the Adler house and unloading the crates into the living room.

From there, Klaus dismissed them.

"I'm going to need time to go through this," he explained. "It will be a number of days to look at everything–"

"Days!" Mint cried.

"–in depth," Klaus finished. "But I think I know what I'm looking for here. Give me the night. I'm sure I can at least confirm the contents of that map you two found. Come by tomorrow morning and we'll see what's what, all right?"

That same fidgety agitation was working its way through her again, but Mint clamped down on it and nodded. At least somebody else was doing the boring work this time; she'd never been much for sifting through documents and deciding what was important and what was crazy wizard ramblings. She would put up with the wait.

"Right, sure," she said.

"Best of luck, doctor," Rue added.

"Thank you."

Another round of goodbyes and farewells, and Mint saw the fruits of their labor disappear behind a closed door. Absently, she hooked one of her rings around her wrist and swung it in a broad loop.

"Well," she mumbled, "now what?"

No response. She waited another few seconds, then caught the ring and spun, looking up to see Rue's retreating back. A little jolt ran through her – frustration, annoyance – and she took off after him.

"Hey, woah, wait," she called. "Where d'you think you're going?"

He slowed down and half-turned to look at her, his head cocked to the side. "Back to the inn?" he answered, clearly confused by her question. "Ah... why?"

That was actually an excellent question. She pondered it for a moment, tried to pinpoint why she had needed to stop him. It bothered her that he had left so abruptly, that was part of it; if anybody was doing the abrupt leaving it was supposed to be her. But there was something else, too, that same niggling thought that had been chewing the back of her consciousness the previous night and, now that they had been left to their own devices, came back with renewed vigor. It was right on the edge of her tongue, right on the edge of–

"Where are you from?" she asked suddenly.

That caught him off guard. "Excuse me?" he said, turning completely to face her.

"Your _accent_," she said. "It's– augh, it's been _bugging me_ since yesterday, where is it from?"

"I–" He paused, blinked a few times, his expression melting from confused to absolutely bewildered. "I don't have an accent."

"Yes you do," she said. "You hold your vowels a little too long and kinda pitch them up. Kind of? Augh, damn it, I _know_ I've heard it before." She massaged her temples and clamped her teeth down in frustration, and waited a few seconds to gather herself before she looked up again. "So where are you from?"

He continued to stare at her. The silence between them crept on just a little longer, and she tried to read his expression. The confusion was gone, and he was regarding her narrowly, his brow furrowed, his head tilted. Sizing her up? Maybe. Deciding whether to talk? Definitely.

He must have resolved whatever was running through his head, though, because after a moment he began again. "There's a little village out on the north-western edge of East Heaven Kingdom. Greenvale. We lived a few miles out from there, had about an acre of land in the woods, mostly kept to ourselves."

Mint thought about it, what she knew of that area and whether she had actually traveled there, but it wasn't ringing any bells. She shook her head. "Naw, don't think that's it."

"Maybe you're hearing things."

She snorted and crossed her arms, flashing him a grin. "That's unlikely."

"Right." He turned away from her again. "As I said, I'm heading back to the inn. I'll see you tomorrow."

She nodded, and he carried on his way. His answer hadn't been satisfactory – at least, there was still something bothering her – but now she wasn't sure what it was that was bothering her and trying to figure it out while he was standing there staring at her would only invite questions in her direction, and that was not a conversation she was keen on having just yet.

. .

Rue stepped into the inn and immediately breathed in the scent of spices and lingering smoke. It was the same pleasant scent that he had felt when he had first walked into the bed-and-breakfast the previous day; the kitchen was silent at that hour, but its smells had woven themselves into the fabric of the building itself. The smell of it filled made him feel light and nostalgic; for a few seconds, he stood in silence, lost in thought.

"Welcome back, dear." The voice was a woman's, creased with age but still warm and tender, and Rue opened his eyes to see her standing behind the counter, smiling gently in his direction.

"Afternoon, Mrs. Cartha," he said.

"I saw you all leaving on a bit of an expedition," she said. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Maybe."

"I hope it all works out for you."

"So do I."

She leaned on the counter, resting her chin on her hand, and looked at him quizzically. "Are you off to bed so early?" she asked.

"Oh– oh, no." He shook his head. "No, I just... wanted to be alone for a bit."

She nodded, and he moved past the counter and up the stairs behind her, to the second floor of the building, then a couple of doors down to his room. He unlocked the door, stepped inside, and locked it right back up behind him.

The room was somewhat small and bare-bones – a bed, a night stand, a dresser-drawer in the corner, all accented by a simple rug – but the bed was comfortable and the sheets were warm from a recent cleaning and the window gave him a pleasant overlook of the town square. He happened to glance outside and see Mint wandering off to another part of town, and found himself relaxing at the sight. Not that he didn't like her – correction: not that he had any idea what to think of her – but that little interrogation a few minutes before had been bizarre, to say the least. And something about her...

Well, no sense worrying about it.

He turned back to the rest of the room and headed for the dresser. Sitting on top, largely undisturbed, was his own luggage, paltry as it was. He hadn't been sure how long he planned on staying in town and hadn't bothered unpacking in the interim, but with their discovery in the library he figured it would be at least a couple of days and hoped it would turn into more. If Klaus was right – if there was a Relic somewhere on the island...

He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. Inhale, hold, exhale through the teeth. _Calm down_, he told himself. _You've been through this before_.

So many times before; a spark of hope, snuffed out before it had even managed to catch flame. He wouldn't allow himself to feel that elation until he could be certain. It wasn't worth it.

Eventually, his heart rate slowed back to normal. He opened his eyes, sighed, and finished crossing the distance to his baggage. He rummaged through the case, shoving through extra sets of clothes and a distressingly light coin-purse until he found the small leather-bound book sitting at the bottom of the bag. He removed it, and with it a half-worn pencil, and sat down on the edge of bed, facing the window. A thin red ribbon, its edges ragged and threadbare, was slotted near the end of the book, acting as a bookmark; he opened the book to the marked page and carefully set the ribbon aside.

His eyes roved over what was already written in the book; line after line of small script written in words he was sure nobody else could understand. The beginning of the book had been written in a very different time and mind-set; even without translating the dates or the text, the mindset was obvious. His entries were spaced further apart, each of them bearing a sizeable amount of text, each of them lined up daily. After a while it had been less than daily; weekly, monthly, sporadically. As time wore on his entries had gotten shorter, the dates further apart, his formatting careless and bunched together. By now it was necessity; he had only a few pages left in the book, and he was hoping to spare them for only the most important notes.

He took up the pencil and wrote down the date. Then, next to it:

_Carona. You'd like it here._

He hesitated, contemplated, decided it was enough. Gingerly, gently, he replaced the ribbon and placed the book on the night stand.


	6. Dealings

**Six || Dealings**

The next morning, they convened in Klaus' basement.

Correction: work room.

What had once been a basement – a wide space, reinforced with concrete and stonework, that had clearly been built to store supplies – had been converted into another room stuffed with artifacts and old papers, and was in a distinct state of disarray. The space under the stairs was filled to bursting with old documents and odds and ends that were badly shoved into place in a desperate attempt to contain them, and it was apparent that this had been done explicitly to make room for the books they had gathered from the library. Even then, the corners were stacked with books and reference material.

Klaus himself was at work on a large desk shoved up against one of the walls. One side of the desk still bore a smattering of books, half-open and propped up and scribbled in and marked; the other half of the desk was overloaded with references and glossaries and maps. Klaus himself was trapped between them, hunched over another set of books, deep into his studies when Rue walked down the stairs and into the basement.

Seeing Klaus obviously at work, Rue stood near the back of the room, waiting for an opportunity to interrupt. After a few minutes, Klaus still had not looked away from his work, and finally Rue stepped forward.

"Sir?"

No response. He tried again, louder this time; "Doctor Adler."

This time Klaus flinched, and he spun in his chair to face Rue. Once their eyes locked, Klaus exhaled and relaxed back into the chair. "Ah, sorry," he said. "I wasn't expecting you for a bit."

"That's all right," Rue said. After a moment of consideration, he frowned slightly. "Klaus, did you get any sleep?"

It was a legitimate question; Klaus' gaze was heavy and he looked a little bedraggled. But Klaus waved his hand in the air, dismissing the question. "I've gotten enough," he said. "Anyhow, I found what I was looking for."

Rue perked up. "You did?"

"Yes." He scooped up one of the books and flipped it open to a mark he had placed. "Now, fair warning; Cadomon was working under assumptions just as much as we are. However, his notes suggest that he found a lot of interesting information about one of the magicians who lived here before him– about five hundred years ago." He looked down at another one of the books briefly, then back to Rue. "Not long after he began his research, Cadomon was stricken by a debilitating disease. He couldn't walk, much less carry on his investigations. He dedicated himself to deciphering everything he had found, but... well... he died without being able to validate anything he had learned."

"That sucks."

Both of them looked up to the stairs to see Mint leaning over the railing, watching them.

"What, you were starting your briefing without me?" she asked. "I'm hurt."

"Just making conversation," Klaus said. "But your timing is excellent. Come here, both of you." Klaus scooted his chair to the side, giving Rue and Mint a little more room to see what he was pointing at. As he did so, he gestured to the map they had found, now sprawled out across his desk, and then pointed to the note Cadomon had left, the word 'atelier'. "I know where this is. I just wanted to make sure that Cadomon was certain about its location before I could ever ask you to go here."

"What is it?" Rue asked.

"An old cobalt mine," Klaus said. "It was abandoned a few decades ago, when the miners broke into a natural cavern structure that happened to be populated by monsters. They're photophobic, thankfully – the monsters, I mean, not the miners, obviously – so they never ventured out onto the surface, but the area is still considered dangerous and the mines themselves are sealed."

"Sounds like they just broke into a monster nest," Mint said. "Why'd your guy think there was anything else down there?"

"Cadomon actually pinpointed the area well before the mine was established," Klaus said. "As far as I can tell, he stumbled upon the information while he was working on book restoration– found some old documents that mentioned Grand Magician Elroy and suggested he had settled somewhere out here. He canvassed the island on a lark and happened to detect a knot of magical entanglements somewhere underground, although he could never quite figure out how to reach it."

"And he never shared his research," Rue sad, "so nobody else ever thought to press further into the caverns."

"Correct."

Silence descended for a few seconds, only to be interrupted by a sudden cry of revelation from Mint.

"Elroy!" she said. "That guy– I think he tried to take over East Heaven Kingdom. Idiot realized it wasn't going to work and fell off the face of the planet. We talking about the same Elroy?"

"The very one." Klaus leaned in his chair, his eyes not quite focused on the map. "Which leads _me_ to believe we may be on to something. Elroy had reached the peak of his power when he suddenly gave up his assault on East Heaven. He hadn't been able to do much damage on his own, but if he believed a Relic was somewhere on this island he might have been willing to pursue it under the assumption it would give him the edge he needed to usurp the throne."

"So how do we get there?" Rue asked.

Klaus pointed the route along the map. "The main path through the forest will lead you straight to the mines. Just follow it down south and you'll eventually find the space they cleared to open the tunnel. Oh, but... Mint." And he looked at her. "I assume you can fight."

She snorted and flipped her hair over her shoulder, almost disdainful of the question. "Of course," she said flatly.

"Rue." And Klaus' attention turned to him. "You're going to need a weapon. Your..." He petered out, considered his words carefully, and started again; "I'd like for the two of you to stick together while you're down there. Your normal tactics might not work very well."

Rue closed his eyes and nodded. "Understood."

Mint shot a look between the two of them, cocking an eyebrow. "What?"

Rue waved the word away. "Don't worry about," he said, and looked back to Klaus. "There's a blacksmith in town?"

"Not a blacksmith, but if you head to the other side of town square there's a man who deals in weapons. You'll be able to find something there."

"Thank you." He paused then, realizing something, and tilted his head. "You're... not coming with us?"

Klaus smiled wanly. "Not this time," he said. "I'm not a fighter. Even ignoring what I did to my leg, I wouldn't be of any use against the monsters that live in there. I'm going to have to leave this up to you two."

"Quick to trust, aren't you?" Mint asked. Her tone was joking, but the question was at least somewhat serious.

Klaus took it in stride. "I've been working with _him_ for the last few months," he said, nodding to Rue. "And I trust _him_ to keep you in line, young lady."

Mint regarded him carefully, trying to determine how much of that had been in jest.

As she contemplated, Rue was already at the stairs, climbing back into the house. He stopped and looked over the railing, and called down to Mint; "I'll meet you at the gate."

He emerged from the basement and into the house proper, blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to the much brighter room. Once they had, he headed out the front door.

Well, he opened it, at least.

But before he could actually leave the building, something sprang out from his peripheral vision. He jumped slightly, surprised, and spun to face it only to find himself looking down at a young girl. He exhaled, forced himself to relax again.

"Sorry," he said. He regarded her for a moment, dug through his memory, called up a name. "You're Elena, right?"

"Mm-hmm," she said. "I remember seeing you at dinner a coupla nights ago. And bringing in all that stuff yesterday. Ah... Rue, right?"

"That's right."

"I saw Mint go by a little earlier, too," she said. "Are you both gonna help Dad?"

"Looks like."

Her smile widened, and she squeezed her hands together. "Oh! That's so great! Say, um... Mint's still here, right?"

He shot a glance to the back of the house., although the answer was obvious. "Yeah," he said. "She must still be talking to Klaus."

"Good!" This time she hesitated for a moment, her gaze briefly flickering to the floor before returning to meet his. "I was hoping to maybe talk to her and show her around and take her out by the lake but I didn't really see anybody around yesterday. Um, since you're helping Dad, too, did you maybe... maybe want to join us?"

He was a bit surprised by the question, and not at all sure how to address it. He couldn't really judge, of course, but it seemed odd that Mint would have agreed to go on this proposed tour. But after a moment of consideration, he realized that she hadn't; Elena was making the offer right then.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I won't be able to. I don't think Mint will, either. Klaus sent us off on some important work, and we can't really wait to do it."

Elena crumpled slightly. "Oh," she said. "Oh, right, 'course." But her expression didn't last long; almost immediately she perked up again. "Maybe later, then! When you're done with what Dad needs."

"Yeah. If we get back early enough."

"Where are you guys goin', then?"

"Down the island path," Rue said. "To the old mines. Although–" He stopped himself short, a thought striking him. "Actually, Elena, Klaus was telling me that somebody here sells weapons. I haven't really taken a good look around town and I don't know where he is. Could you take me there?"

"Yep!"

He stepped out of the door frame as she went by, her step bordering on a skip. "He's not far!"

That wasn't saying much; Rue might not have taken a good look around town, but one look at the layout of the walls and it was clear even without stepping through the gates that Carona was a fairly small settlement. He knew he didn't strictly need Elena's help, either, but he felt somewhat bad about cutting into her plans – she'd seemed so exuberant about it – and figured he could at least try to accommodate her.

"This way!" she said, pointing across the pathway.

"Go on," he said, and Elena took off. Rue gave her a few seconds leeway, then fell in step behind her.

"So you and Mint just met, too?" she asked suddenly.

"Hmm? Oh. Yes. When we all had dinner, in fact."

"I know a secret about her."

She said it in a low, sly voice that made it apparent she was just bursting at the seams to continue. Rue wasn't going to stop her; quite the contrary, he found himself very curious about that statement. "Do you?" he asked.

"Mm-hmm." She spun to face him, but didn't stop walking, instead moving backwards toward their inevitable target. "When she got me out of the ruins, she told me she was a princess."

Rue blinked. "She said what?"

Elena grinned and nodded. "S'true!" she cried. "Said she was _Princess_ Mint. But then she didn't tell anybody else in the house that she was a princess so I figured she must've been keeping it a secret." She held a finger to her lips. "Don't tell anyone I told you."

He put one hand over his heart and raised the other one, open-palmed, like he was taking an oath. "Your secret's safe with me."

Not that he had any idea what it meant, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Mint _might_ have been messing with the poor girl's head. She'd put on airs of false humility at dinner, but her confidence was palpable, and she'd explicitly shown Elena her magic ability– greatly impressed Elena with it, too, the way Elena's face lit up when she said Mint's name was plainly visible. Maybe she'd taken advantage of the adulation, played herself up.

He tucked the information away. There was no sense speculating; one way or the other, Mint hadn't brought it up to anybody else, either at dinner or in the library, and if she didn't want to discuss it that was her business. Besides, it wasn't as though he didn't have a few things he was wary of discussing, too.

Elena smiled at him and turned on her heel, leading him the rest of the way facing forward. Not a few minutes later, she led him up to the front of one of the shops. It was another wood-and-stone building, same as most of the town, although the front of this one was marked by two large windows bearing a small collection of decorative weaponry on display. A wooden sign swung just above the door, bearing a single word: TONIO'S.

"Here you go!" Elena said.

"Not coming inside?"

She shook her head. "No thanks. Tonio's nice, but his shop smells all... metal-y." She wrinkled her nose at the idea. "Anyway, I'll see you later, 'kay?"

"Okay. Thank you, Elena."

"No problem!" She smiled broadly, but her expression suddenly turned stern and grim, and she pressed her finger to her mouth again. "Remember, _secrets_."

And on that note, she spun and practically bounced back on her way to the house. Rue watched her for a few seconds, making sure she was well on her way, then turned back to the door and entered the building.

Elena had been right; immediately he was strung by the scent of iron. The shop itself was not particularly overflowing with weapons – there was a decent selection, lined up neatly in shelves behind the main counter – but he could hear the sound of a blade being sharpened somewhere behind them, and it was this equipment that filled the shop with the scent of metal.

There was nobody behind the counter, but there was somebody in front of it, a broad-shouldered man wearing dark blues stitched with leather, a belt around his waist pocked with satchels and pouches, another strap of leather looped over his shoulders and adorned with a small selection of knives. He was leaning nonchalantly on the counter, humming to himself.

Then the scraping stopped, and another man emerged from between the shelves. Compared to the man waiting at the counter, he was small and almost bookish-looking, and even _not_ compared to the man at the counter he didn't exactly cut an imposing figure, between his average stature, smaller build, and pince-nez. As he walked back to the counter, he was returning a sword back to its sheath, which he then placed on the counter in front of the waiting man.

"It didn't need much," he said. "You take good care of your weapons, Graham."

"Got to, don't I?" the other man said. He picked up the sword and pulled it gingerly from the sheath, examining it in the light. "Thanks for havin' a look at her."

"Not a problem." The man behind the counter seemed then to notice that Rue was standing in the doorway, and he smiled and waved. "Ah, hello! Didn't see you there! Come in, come in!"

The other man, Graham, looked up as well. "Well, mornin' to ya," he said. "Haven't seen you around here before. New in town?"

"Just visiting," Rue said, approaching the counter.

"But still in need of something sharp?" Graham asked, laughter bubbling in the back of his voice. "Sounds like some dangerous visiting."

"Ignore him, please."

Rue couldn't help but smile faintly. "It's okay."

Graham laughed and placed a few coins down on the counter. "Well, I'd better get goin'. I'll see you later, Tonio."

"Take care!"

At that, Graham left the store, and Tonio turned his full attention to Rue. "Sorry about that," he said. "How can I help you?"

Rue looked past him, to the weapons on display. "I just need something functional," he said.

"Well that doesn't help _me_ much," Tonio said. He tilted his head to the side. "You're not much familiar with weaponry, are you?"

Rue shook his head. "I can use it," he said. "I've fought plenty of monsters. Just most of the weapons I've used were scavenged. I haven't really gotten to _choose_ before."

Tonio leaned on the counter, regarding him curiously. "Now that's interesting," he said. "What d'you do that you get to scavenge weapons? Treasure hunting?"

"You could say that."

"Hmm." Tonio stood fully upright, regarded Rue for a moment, then turned back to his stock. "I take it you've got a specific idea of where you're _going_, if not what you want to use. Where would that be?"

He hesitated, then decided there was really no harm in mentioning it. "The old cobalt mines."

"Really! That's unique. Ah... here's something." He selected one of the short swords from the rack and turned back to Rue, placing it on the counter and unsheathing it. "The mines have been sealed off since before I got here, but I imagine you won't have a lot of room to maneuver. My best guess for what you'd want is a gladius– an excellent thrusting weapon, and decent reach for slashing without being cumbersome, especially in closed quarters."

He removed his hands from the weapon, and Rue reached out to take it. He examined it in the light and gently hefted the blade. Even if it turned out not to be ideal, he would be able to make do; he was accustomed to his scrounged weapons being rusted and dulled, so already the gladius was a massive improvement over his usual repertoire.

"I think this'll work," he said.

Tonio smiled. "Good!" He told Rue the price, and as Rue went to fish out the necessary money, Tonio asked; "You're really going into the mines? Those were sealed off ages ago. Lots of nasty things in there."

"That's why I'm arming myself," he said, perhaps a little too lightly, and placed the money on the counter. Tonio counted it out and scooped it up; Rue, in turn, picked up the sheathed gladius and worked on attaching it to his own belt.

"Well, best of luck," Tonio said. "And be careful out there, okay?"

"I'd planned to be. Thank you."

He gave a final wave before departing from the building, adjusting the sheath's strap as he walked until he had it reasonably comfortable. It still felt weird, though; when he picked up the old weapons from ruins and ateliers, it was always a temporary situation, keeping hold as long as was necessary, and almost always without some kind of holster. Having something new and sharp strapped against his hip was going to take some getting used to.

He made his way to the gates quickly enough, and as agreed Mint was standing next to the doors, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, doing her best to pretend she hadn't noticed his approach. She herself was unencumbered, but there was a pair of rucksacks splayed out at her feet.

When he was close enough, he finally asked; "Supplies?"

"Some food, some water," she said. "Mostly they're for carrying anything good that we happen to find." She looked up and smiled. "Klaus just wants books and anything that gets mentioned in the books. We can keep anything else we find."

"Sounds like him," Rue said, taking one of the rucksacks and slinging it onto his back. "Ready?"

"Of _course_."

She picked up the other pack and adjusted it onto her back. Then, with Mint taking the lead, they headed out the gate.

At first, there wasn't much by way of conversation; once they verified the directions Klaus had given them, they set off in earnest and in relative silence, working across the well-trodden path through the forest, surrounded by the sounds of rustling leaves and insect chirring.

But after some time, Mint slowed down, abandoning her position out front and falling back until she was roughly alongside Rue. She picked up the pace once she was, keeping alongside him, and spoke.

"I think you and I need to have a talk," she began.

He gave her a sidelong glance. "Do we?"

"Yeah, we do." She adjusted the pack and regarded him coolly, levelly. "We have entered into something resembling a partnership. We go down to this atelier and start looting treasures, we've got to figure out who gets what."

"_Do_ we?"

"We _do_," Mint said, gritting her teeth slightly. "Klaus already forfeit his right to keep anything that isn't filled with words, so he's basically out of the picture. Sounds like he'd be happy so long as he at least got to poke at anything we bring back."

"He will be," Rue confirmed.

"Which means that we – that is, just the two of us – have to figure out how the rest of the spoils get split. Now, as the one who's going out of her way to provide us with no small amount of magical convenience, _I_ was thinking we could split the take, say..." She made a show of making the calculations. "Eighty-twenty."

Rue did not respond immediately. There was silence between the two of them as they continued, stretching from a few seconds to several, and Mint sighed heavily and shook her head. "All right, maybe that's a _little_ much– seventy-thirty? Spellweaving isn't exactly _easy_, you know, I think the compensation's–"

"Take it all."

She was in the middle of making an unnecessarily grand gesture when Rue spoke again, and it caught her off guard. She stumbled slightly, caught herself, and half-jumped forward to fall back in step alongside him. "Wait, what?"

"Take it all," he repeated. "I don't need treasure."

She stared at him for a moment. "Okay, now– now don't get me wrong, I'm _completely fine_ with that arrangement, but what the _hell_ do you want out of this?" She suddenly came to a stop, forcing Rue to do the same a few paces ahead of her. She looked at him through narrowed eyes, and nodded slowly. "Ah, I get it. You want the Relic."

"Well..." He scratched the back of his neck, finding himself somewhat confused. "If Cadomon was right. If we find one. I–"

"Hup!" she said sharply, cutting him off before he could continue. "No no no. You can't just pay me off like that. We find a Relic and I'll be able to turn _rocks_ into gold. A bunch of shiny things isn't worth giving up a super-powered magical artifact." She folded her arms and gave him an indignant glare. "That's just _greedy_."

For a moment, he just stared at her, and slowly decided that arguing just wasn't worth the effort.

"Sorry," he said, "I misspoke. That's not what I meant. I meant..." He took a moment, mulling over the wording in his mind, before he spoke again. "If we find a Relic – if there's one out here, and it hasn't been used up – I'd like to use it first. Once."

Her stance shifted; her shoulders when slack, she stood up straighter, and she looked him up and down, some of her glare dissipating. "Once?" she repeated. When he nodded, she unfolded her arms and her hands fell to her sides. "What's your angle?"

"No angle," he said. "I'm only after one thing. Once that's done, it's yours."

"I–" She hesitated, closed her mouth, stared at him in open confusion. Then, slowly; "You're serious."

He nodded.

She frowned.

"One wish," she said, holding up her finger to emphasize the point. "Just the one."

"That's all I ask."

"I'm not sure I believe you."

"That's fine." He turned away from her and looked back down the path. "We can discuss it later. Maybe after we've figured out if it actually exists."

"Fair enough." She started walking again, quickly sweeping past him, and looked over her shoulder to him again. "You're _actually_ giving up your share of the treasure?"

"It's yours."

She snorted. "Suit yourself," she said.

She rounded a corner on the path up ahead, briefly disappearing behind the trees, and Rue suspected that she didn't entirely believe him. It didn't matter. So long as he could convince her of his intentions once they found the Relic.

_If_, he reminded himself sternly. _If_ the thing existed, _if_ it hadn't corroded over the years, _if_ the magic inside wasn't exhausted, _if_ somebody else hadn't already found it. If, if, if.

The rest of the walk was quiet.


	7. Elroy's Labyrinth

**Seven || Elroy's Labyrinth**

* * *

It was mid-morning when the trees suddenly opened up. The full force of the sun was suddenly bearing down on them, and Mint had to raise her hand over her eyes to keep out the worst of the glare. There was nothing she could do about the encroaching heat, though; under the canopy of the trees, with the cool of an early autumn breeze, it had been easy to pretend that they were not out in the tropics, but now that she had left the protective shadows of the forest she was finding it hard to forget.

She scanned the clearing, her roving gaze settling on something protruding from the ground. When her eyes had adjusted to the light again, she could see it was the rusting remains of a mine track.

"We're here," she said, and peered further ahead. The smooth, sandy terrain turned uneven and rocky up ahead, and a bit further than that the ground rose up into a definite hill. "The entrance is over that way. Follow the tracks."

She didn't check to see if Rue was still behind her, or that he had yet made it past the tree line or had any idea what she was talking about, when she took her own advice and started to creep along the tracks herself, following them as they made a gentle bend around the rocks before curving back to the hill. It was mindless, and it gave her a chance to think.

She hadn't expected any of that conversation. Any of it. She'd thrown out her ridiculous conditions under the assumption she could haggle down to similarly favorable but less overtly ridiculous conditions. It had worked before; a sixty-forty profit split sounds positively generous next to eighty-twenty, and after all, she _was_ contributing her magical proclivities to the proceedings. What kind of special traits had Rue exhibited thus far? Certainly nothing that could hold a candle to her skill.

(Although she did still find it odd that he had apparently been diving into ateliers with Klaus for _months_ – and maybe even some time before he had _met_ Klaus – and didn't keep his own weapon on him. She couldn't make heads or tails of what that meant.)

So that had been her initial offering. She didn't expect him to take it, and she certainly didn't expect him to up the ante. And for what? First dibs and one shot at using the Relic.

That was intriguing, though. She knew exactly what she wanted to do once she had the power of a Relic in her hands, but the list was long and branching and had become filled with additional footnotes over the years. She couldn't imagine being able to select one single thing above all else that she would want. He must have been holding on to one hell of a wish. She'd have to wrangle it out of him before too long.

She came to a stop.

The tracks had brought her where she wanted to be; straight ahead of her was a cavern, artificially carved out of the rock face, the mine cart tracks disappearing into the darkness. Wooden boards, grown dark and moldy and soft from age and weather, had been attached to the foremost frame of the mines in a broad X pattern. Right at the front of the mines was a short stone wall, one side of its crumbling, bearing the remains of what had once been a wooden sign post, long since rotted away.

Pay dirt.

She easily hopped over the wall and strode up to the wooden barricade. there wasn't quite enough space for her to squeeze through either side, but the boards themselves were in a bad state of disrepair and one good knock to the rotting wood would make the whole thing collapse.

"Is that it?" Rue asked, emerging from around the corner. He jumped the wall, but didn't come any closer, watching as Mint deliberated.

"Gotta be," she said.

"The wood's rotten. We can probably pry it from–"

Before he could speculate further, however, Mint had already slammed her foot into the heart of the barricade, right where the wooden planks crossed each other. The impact exploded outward in a shower of grit and wood splinters; the wooden boarded cracked and groaned, visibly warped in the middle.

Mint let the cloud of debris settle a little bit before she kicked it again. The wood was too rotten to properly crack, but it only took one more kick to shatter the remainder of the barricade. The whole middle fell away, almost disintegrating under the blow. The corners of the X were still pointing inward, but it was a sad and useless expression of denial; the hole in the middle of them was more than enough for Mint to simply walk through now.

She looked over her shoulder and shot Rue a grin. "Come on," she said genially, and stepped into the mines. She heard him follow a few paces behind.

Sunlight was still streaming a fair way down into the tunnel, but after a few minutes it was starting to grow darker and harder to see. Torch brackets lined the walls and small lanterns hung dangling from the wooden support arches; they were dark, of course, but Mint was pleasantly surprised on reaching for one of the lanterns that she could feel the faint warmth of the spell remnants around her fingers. She tightened her hold on it, and the edges of the magic tightened and twisted anew, dragging in a beam of sunlight and capturing it in the core of the lamp.

"The spells are still there?" Rue asked.

"Yeah," she said. "They just got frayed. I can put 'em back together no problem."

Just the lanterns, though; when she tried one of the torch brackets, it felt cold and dead. Still, the lanterns were enough to see by; their warm glow extended far enough to at least illuminate the path to the next lantern. Even so early in it was rapidly becoming a necessity; as the mine sloped downward and started to curve, they left sunlight behind and plunged into the dark of the mines, the soft, pallid glow of the lanterns providing the only light.

At first, there was nothing of note; just raggedly chiseled walls, chipped stone, the scuttling of small spiders that gathered in the darkening corners and fled when the lanterns were lit anew. After what felt like a long time – oppressively long, although the darkness and the silence made it seem so much worse – the walls began to change. What had been battered stone took on a different texture, more natural and organic. The walls themselves changed color, too, from drab earth tones to drab earth tones mottled with flecks of blue and green. She ran her hand across them, her fingers dancing over the shifting texture of the rocks.

"Cobalt veins," she said. "This is about as far as they got."

And having said that, she slowed down, then stopped. Rue came to a stop next to her, and both of them stared ahead.

Not much farther ahead, the cart tracks ended, and there were no support arches to help hold up the tunnel– and, consequently, no more lanterns, no more torches. The light from the lantern hanging above them extended in a warm bubble up ahead, showing them the abrupt end to the man-made path. Beyond that, the darkness seemed almost to solidify around them.

Mint snorted. "Can't make this easy."

Rue stepped back and reached up for the lantern. He jimmied the chain, sending a light shower of dislodged rust onto his face. He looked away, keeping it out of his eyes, and yanked down hard. The lantern came loose, dragging behind it the whipping tail of its chain, the heavy nail that had held it in place, and a gout of moldy wood splinters. Rue quickly pulled himself back, getting out of the way of the worst of it, and once the cloud had settled he stepped forward again, holding the lantern aloft.

"Let's go."

"You gonna hold the lantern?" she asked.

"I can," he said. "Unless you want to–"

"I'd rather keep my hands free," she said. "Take the lead."

He nodded and moved in front of her, holding the lantern as high as he could to try and cast more light. Mint let him go, reaching behind her back and pulling her rings free. If Klaus was right, they were likely nearing the point where the mine broke into a monster den, and she didn't want to be ill prepared for the event.

The wall continued to curve around. The walls themselves were visibly streaked in blues and greens, and becoming more rugged– and more narrow. Where they had previously had more than enough room to maneuver, the tunnel was growing tighter and progressively more claustrophobic; there was still ample room, but the abrupt narrowing of the space around them was causing Mint's heart to beat just a little faster than she would have liked.

"How long does this thing go on?" she growled.

"I can't tell," Rue said. "It can't be much more, unless..."

He trailed off. Mint glared at the back of his head. "Unless _what_?"

"M-maybe there was a cave-in," he said. "Maybe the path is just... blocked."

"I'll break my way through it if it's 'just blocked'," Mint snapped.

"You'd probably destabilize the whole structure if you did that," Rue said quietly. "We might have to– ah, no, here we are."

She shifted to the side, trying to get a better look over his shoulder. The tunnel seemed to just about end up ahead, the walls suddenly closing up and meeting with each other again, but in the interplay of light and shadow a particular shadow caught her attention. It was tall and uncomfortably thin, but when Rue moved the lantern the shadows moved with it and the light dug deeper into the rocky tunnel.

"It looks like something cut into the rock here," Rue said. He took a few paces forward, placed the lantern on the ground, and stepped up to the edge of the rock. He placed his hands on the stones, ducked down, peered around. "Down here," he said. He was down on hands and knees, nearly pressed up against the wall, one hand feeling around for the lantern chain. He caught it and yanked the lantern back close to him, and in its stark light Mint could see a fissure running through the wall, the crack widening to an almost acceptable width at the base.

"See anything through there?" she asked.

"A lot of dark," Rue said. "I'm going on ahead."

Mint nodded. "Let me know if you get mauled or something."

"That won't be a problem."

He crawled into the opening and quickly disappeared. Mint waited a few seconds, listening to any indication of something going on beyond the wall – scraping, clanging, perhaps screaming, whatever – but all was still.

Then the chain of the lantern rattled, pulled taut, and then snaked away, the lantern following down the tunnel. Suddenly her only illumination was a thing triangle of light that escaped the opening.

"Hey!" Mint yelled. "You're not allowed to steal the light!"

Rue ignored her. "Come through. I think it's safe."

"You _think_?"

But she didn't let that ripple of indignation slow her. She tied her rings back to her belt, hunched down in front of the cracked wall and peered through the opening. The tunnel was short and the lantern was sitting conspicuously at the far side, just a couple of feet away. She crawled through the opening, shoving the lantern to the side as she did, and stood up the instant she had enough room to do so.

When she emerged, she found that the tunnel structure of the mine was gone; instead they stood in a cavernous hollow, the light from their lantern insufficient to see all the way across the room. But she could see, just out of her peripheral vision, the opposite wall.

"Gimme the lantern."

Rue handed it over, and she reached in and condensed the magic threads onto themselves, smothering the light inside them. The lantern turned dark; the room around them turned dark; and, after a few seconds, her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she could actually somewhat see. It wasn't much, but the walls were actually aglow, casting faint blue-green luminescence around them. For a moment she wondered if the cobalt veins were somehow aglow, but slowly she started to feel the heaviness of the air, thick and humid; she almost felt damp just standing there. Not the cobalt, then; lichen.

She re-ignited the lantern.

"See anything?" Rue asked.

"Glowing fungus," she said, shrugging. "We'll have to go further in." She frowned to herself. "No monsters that I can see."

"Klaus said the mines were closed decades ago. The monsters might've moved on."

"Or just dug in deeper. Either way, standing here isn't going to help." She thrust the lantern back into his hands so suddenly he almost dropped it. Once he had a grip again, she pointed ahead. "Let's go."

Rue stepped forward, holding out the lantern, and the two started their slow procession down the tunnel. Space narrowed as they moved from the central cavern, but the tunnel itself remained wide enough that they could have comfortably walked side by side. Mint was alert for anything moving into or away from their bubble of light, but all she saw were spiders skittering out of their way. The path was leading them straight ahead, with nothing but the walls and the lichen and the occasional wooden support pillar to interrupt their walk.

At uneven intervals, she would hear a muffled sound, the dull roar of running water, and the floor would shine slick with damp, and the lichen colonies would become a little denser for the humidity. She thought they must be getting close to something, but shortly after the sound would fade and they would be back to hearing nothing but their footsteps again. Then the tunnels would widen into a cavern, and on the side there would be a continuation of the tunnel, and other than those two anomalies the whole thing was one long stretch of rocks and fungus and nothing.

They must have been walking for almost an hour before Mint finally reacted

"Come _on_!" she shouted into the mines. "How long does this _go_?"

Rue shifted uncomfortably, sending the light swaying. "It... has been a while," he said slowly. "Something's wrong."

Mint felt a strange chill run up her spine. "Turn around," she said. "We'll go back the way we came."

"No, hold on." Rue took a few steps ahead, trying to cast as much lantern-light ahead of him as he could; they were coming to another broadening of the path, another cavern, so the light didn't quite reach the walls. Suddenly he took off at a run, so abruptly it took Mint several seconds to realize what he was doing.

"Hey!" she shouted. "HEY!"

Fortunately, he didn't go far, and when he came to a stop Mint caught up to him quickly; she had to curb her frustration to avoid intentional bowling him over. That didn't stop her from coming to a skidding halt just behind him and slamming her hand down on his shoulder.

"What was that!" she snarled.

To his credit, he didn't overreact to her touch or her shouts. Instead, he looked over his shoulder, and with his free hand indicated the wall. "There," he said.

Her eyes followed his arm, down to where he was pointing, and for a few seconds she couldn't process what he was telling her. "What about there?" she asked. "It's just–"

She cut herself off as the visual suddenly gained cohesion in her mind. She hadn't recognized where they were at first, but with a little consideration it became clear that somehow, by walking straight ahead, they had managed to return to the crevice in the wall that they had initially crawled through.

Without another word, Rue passed Mint the lantern and ducked down, looking through the crack in the wall. He surfaced and accepted the lantern again, nodding.

"It's the same," he said. "This is where we came in."

"No way. We've been walking in a straight line."

"It must be a defense mechanism," Rue said. "Some kind of spell. We'll keep looping back on ourselves unless we can find a way out."

Mint folded her arms and shot an irritable glance down the way they had been traveling. "That's annoying," she grumbled. "How are we supposed to steal his secrets if he went and did a thing like that?"

"I'd think that was the point."

She snorted. "Gimme the lantern," she said. "I'm gonna have another look around."

He handed it off to her, and she turned on her heel to face the direction they had come from, the tunnel opposite the way they had come in. She took three strides toward it, then suddenly stopped dead.

Something shimmered in the air– not exactly a physical, visible something, but she could feel it ripple in the air, and the space before her eyes became faintly distorted for a fraction of a second. Tentatively, she stepped forward and held out her hand to where the anomaly had been, but whatever it was, it was gone.

"You feel that?" Mint asked. There was no response, and she called over her shoulder. "Hey! You see this?"

Still nothing.

Something lurking in her chest snapped, and she wheeled around, nearly hurling the lantern back behind her. "Hey, Artema! I'm–"

What, exactly, she was doing, she never got to say. The space behind her was empty. What's more, it was... different.

She made her way back to where he had been not thirty seconds earlier. Just as she expected, the space was barren and untouched. Additionally – and certainly not what she had been expecting – the space around her was much smaller than it should have been. The cavernous room they had started out in had shrunk down to the size of the tunnel she was working her way through, sealing the entrance back out to the mines in the process.

Slowly, forcing herself to remain calm, she went back to where she had seen the distortion in the air and closed her eyes. She sucked in a deep breath through her teeth, held it, exhaled. She extended her thoughts outward, feeling through the spaces between the air for remnants of magical energy, and, much to her dismay, she found them; coiled energy, tiny knots of magic slowly unraveling in the air, the remains of an enchantment dissipating into nothing.

She took a few more steps forward and decided to wait. If she had disappeared, maybe Rue had decided to follow her, and maybe he would be walking through the enchantment any second.

But the seconds turned to minutes, and minutes was longer than Mint cared to wait.

Besides, maybe she had done something good. Maybe whatever she had passed through would give her a clear shot to the atelier. In which case, well, she'd just have to regale him with stories of her triumph when she got back.

However she would get back.

Which was something she would worry about when she needed to get back.

She made one last half-hearted glance down the mine tunnel. Still no sign of him. Too bad.

She marched forward.

. .

Rue knew something had gone wrong an instant before it happened.

It was on the air; a rush of cold energy, like a frigid breeze whipping through the tunnels, but in spite of the chill sweat prickled his skin and his heart raced faster. He knew what the sensation was, although it took him a moment to place it; a flood of magical energy, pouring out from somewhere far down the tunnels.

He shot to his feet and tried to call out to Mint– it wouldn't help, but he might at least give her a chance to prepare herself. But before he was even entirely standing she was gone, blinking out of existence before his eyes, and not a second later he was gone, too.

He blinked rapidly, looked around, tried to get his bearings. His heart was hammering, his lungs aching from his manic breathing; he had to force himself to close his eyes, to very carefully draw in air, hold it, release. He pressed his palm against his forehead, willed himself to calm down. Inhale, hold, exhale. Inhale, hold, exhale. Inhale– hold–

He exhaled again and looked up. The flush of magic still had him on edge, but he could control himself now. His heart was beating fast, but no longer panicked, and though his lungs still burned he could at least use them properly again. He slowly lowered his hands from his face and looked up to where he was.

It wasn't immediately apparent that he was anywhere different, even as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, trying and failing to use the soft bioluminescence of the lichen to see by. He was still standing in a dark cave, still staring down what appeared to be a tunnel, still in the dark. He sent a glance down next to him, however, and saw that the lichen glow was closer than it had been before. Now he was standing in one of the tunnels rather than the room they had started in. To verify, he ran his hand against the wall next to him and found no sign of the fissure he and Mint had wandered through.

Spatial magic, then. He could still feel it in the air, and when he concentrated he could almost see the little unraveling knots of magic showing him the space he had just been in. No, correction: he could definitely see them, but it was so similar both here and where he had come from that, if he didn't know he had just been forcibly teleported, he wouldn't have been able to see the difference.

So he knew what had happened, at least on a superficial level, but he couldn't understand why. He ran back the moment through his head, then worked backwards. He and Mint had been walking in a circle for quite a while and had doubtless walked back through that tunnel at least a half-dozen times – probably more – before they realized what had happened. The only different action they had taken was Mint trying to go down in the opposite direction. Had that triggered a spell?

No. The source of the magic had been from elsewhere entirely. They had just been caught up in the burst.

That didn't help him.

_First order of business_, he told himself. _Where am I?_

Not hard to tell. He was still somewhere in the mines, or in the cave system the mines had ultimately opened out to. It was unlikely that he had been thrown elsewhere in the loop that he and Mint had been following– not impossible, of course, but that seemed like a powerful burst of magic to have such a comparatively minor effect.

It also had to have been intentional. If it had been a random side effect of something like a spell break, he had a much better chance of getting embedded in the rock than he did of landing so neatly in the middle of a pathway.

So, all things considered: he, and most likely Mint, had been teleported deeper into the caves. They had been separated, but it was clearly a calculated spell and they had been teleported to safe, if unrelated, locations. And neither of them had done anything to set off the reaction.

Okay then.

Having come to that conclusion, he knew that the second order of business would be to orientate himself and get to somewhere that made more sense to him. Giving a look around the room, he could only see the possibility of moving directly forward or moving directly backward, although the poor lighting meant that he might well have been missing something important. For the moment, however, it seemed as good a plan as any to pick a direction and start walking. It wasn't as though he couldn't just turn around and try again if there was a dead end.

The thought made him shudder. What if it was a dead end? What if they were both dead ends? What if he'd been sent somewhere in the middle of an isolated cave, and instead of just being crushed inside a wall he had the privilege of slowly starving to death, or dehydrating, or suffocating when the oxygen in the room ran out? Such pleasant possibilities.

He tried to ignore them.

He walked forward a short way before it became difficult to visually parse what he was seeing. Something emerged directly in front of him, a spray of wan, blue-green light, a patch of rock and lichen in what should have been the middle of the route. At first he was afraid he had run into a wall – dead end, as anticipated – but as he got closer it solidified, and he could see that the path was actually split down the middle, veering off to the left and right. Both of them, of course, faded into darkness well before he could make sense of them.

He needed to find some kind of light.

He flipped his rucksack around and zipped it open, digging through the contents and hoping his hand would land on something useful: a torch, a lantern, a firestarter. _Tinder_, even.

No good. The pack was mostly empty except for a few neat packages of food.

He grunted irritably and slung the pack over his back again.

One way was as good as any.

He pressed his hand against the wall and used that to keep himself centered as he walked. He tried following the left curve of the wall for a while, but after a fair bit of walking he realized that it was probably curving back on itself. Elroy had clearly designed the labyrinth to frustrate any attempts to traverse it through typical methods; Rue couldn't tell visually, of course, but he suspected it was under the same spell as when they had first walked in, linking him infinitely back to where he had started. He switched to following the right wall for a bit, and it seemed to get him somewhere else – the floor texture changed, the lichen grew in denser clusters, he felt the walls pressing down just a little harder around him – but when he came to another fork he was starting to realize that brute forcing his way through a magical labyrinth that he couldn't even see was a terrible, terrible idea.

What else could he do, though?

At least he knew he wasn't in a dead end, or at least the dead end he was in had the courtesy of being elaborate enough that it didn't seem like one. And maybe he could stumble his way through – he'd stumbled through plenty of ateliers and managed to come out of the experiences alive, after all – although it would have been much nicer if there was just _something_ he could do to give himself an edge. Anything he knew to look for. Any indication of...

Light.

He stopped where he was and stared down the path. The right branch– he had seen something there, a little flash of warm color, a flit of flame. He didn't know if it was real, though; it might have been eyes playing tricks, he might have been seeing echoes of light. So he stood by, and he waited, and there it was again.

It wasn't flame, though it was orange-red. It was almost a sphere, and it wasn't so much illumination as it was a dull glow, but his eyes were so adjusted to the dark it seemed far brighter than it actually was. It was also moving, dipping in and out from behind something. What it coming his way? No, not particularly.

He watched it for a moment, making absolutely certain it was real. It disappeared behind an object a couple of times, but only for a few seconds before returning, cresting over what looked to be a jutting rock, twitching in the air, taunting him.

He had no idea what the hell it was, but it was casting something resembling light, and it was something to follow.

He set off after it, but very carefully, slowly, trying to make sense of what exactly he was seeing as he approached. It lofted in the air, wriggled, and as he closed in he could see that it was expanding and contracting in a long, slow rhythm. He edged close to whatever it was, closing the gap between himself and the object, and then came to a very sharp stop.

It wasn't terribly bright, but it cast enough of a glow that now, only a few feet away, Rue could make sense of what he was looking at. And what he was looking at was some kind of insect. The bulb of red was some kind of pulsating organic sack, visibly filled with liquid, stationed at the end of its bloated abdomen. The thing was facing away from him, but as it moved he saw hair-crusted, thin legs readjust and turn– it was too dark to see exactly how many were actually attached tot he creature, but he counted off at least six.

As it twisted around, its head came into view, massive multi-faceted eyes gleaming from its own projected light, the massive pincers of its jaws twitching open and shut. He couldn't make much sense of what he was seeing, but there were far more moving parts than he was comfortable with and suddenly standing behind the thing seemed a terrible idea. Though it was less terrible than jumping in front of it.

Which, he was starting to realize, he was going to have to do.

The massive creature was mostly blocking the tunnel, and since he hadn't passed by the thing before Rue knew that this was the one that would let him proceed forward. He had to get by the monstrous insect in order to do so, but he couldn't conceive of making it by without being detected. Not while it was alive.

Slowly, Rue reached for the sword at his side.

Slowly, the thing turned its huge body around. The bulbous sack of luminous liquid – some kind of toxin, no doubt – scraped against the opposite wall, twisting slightly as its contents sloshed and settled. Rue tried not to make any sudden movements, tried to move as slowly as possible. Insects, he knew, could feel the changes in the air when things moved; they detected motion without needing to see it. He had to be careful, then; he didn't know how honed this things senses were, he didn't know what kind of toxin it was carrying, he didn't know a lot of things and that worried him but he just had to exercise caution, move carefully, so close too close it had to know he was there he could see its mandibles a dozen little moving bits sharp-edged and jagged and little claws searching to dig into flesh.

It suddenly screamed and lunged.

Rue dove forward, snapping the sword fully into his hand, and twisted in the air, lashing upward with the blade to catch the thing under its thorax. The gladius' blade scraped against its solid exoskeleton, releasing a few snapping sparks on impact. Rue hit the ground on his shoulder, rolled with the momentum, and scrambled to his feet. He threw himself forward and wheeled around to face the monstrous ant again, but it was already yanking itself around to face him.

For such a massive body and such spindly little legs, it was dreadfully fast.

It slammed its forebody against the ground and yanked its abdomen into the air, raising the venom sack like a scorpion's tail. Rue saw it contract, pulse, and threw himself to the side just as the thing released a blast of distressingly luminous venom at him. The burst of liquid hit the ground hissing and sizzling, the rock beneath it seeming almost to boil.

_Oh geez._

He had crashed bodily into the wall, and now shoved off, staggering backward to try and get his footing again. The ant lifted itself up again, this time rising up on its legs as though looking down on him, and then suddenly it moved, six limbs clacking against the stone floor as the monster skittered toward him.

Rue stiffened, his hand gripped the sword more tightly, and as the ant bore down on him he charged right back at it. Just before he crashed into its mandibles, he kicked off the ground and leapt up, jabbing the blade of the sword into one of its eyes.

It was an awkward move that sent him slamming down on the ant's head, but it worked for what he needed. Rue put all his weight behind the sword blade, and when he went down the ant crashed down too, the gladius tearing through its massive eye. The impact with the ground jarred him, and for a few seconds he was paralyzed, but as soon as he could move again he leapt to his feet, yanking the sword free of its target and stepping back.

He exhaled a long, shaky breath and looked over the blade of the gladius, coated in a thick, colorless substance that seemed to be seeping out onto the floor under the ant's head. He scraped it against the wall, trying to clean it as best he could, but it wasn't a terribly effective attempt. He'd have to wash it off properly once he got the chance. Placing it into its sheath would probably be a bad idea, too.

He turned away from the ant, starting to make his way down the tunnel, when a strange hissing noise came to him. He slowed, stopped, felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle, and without conscious thought hurled himself into the wall just as another stream of hissing venom spattered the ground where he had been standing.

He turned to look behind him and saw that the insect had dragged itself upright, its spindly legs keeping its body hoisted above the floor, its head twisted strangely, damaged eye facing the ceiling as colorless fluid continued to boil over, leaving a thick trail of blood on the ground behind it.

It took a half-step forward, a strange warbling hiss coming from somewhere deep in its body, and Rue stepped back tentatively, raising the blade again in case it somehow gathered itself to attack again. It couldn't possibly do that, though; the wound was too severe, there was just no conceivable way it could attack him again. Not like that.

Then again, he couldn't understand how it was still moving at all.

The back of its body jerked upward again until the bubble of venom reappeared, gleaming dull red in the darkness. It shifted itself around, spread its legs, tilted its head back again to send a thick rope of colorless blood oozing back to the floor. Rue steeled himself, and–

The insect's body torqued backward and upward, the venom sack constricted, and Rue threw himself toward the creature again, listening to the venom hiss through the air overhead. Wildly he swung again, trying to drive the blade of the sword through the open wound in its eye socket, or into its other eye socket, but the darkness frustrated his aim and the insect was moving faster again, yanking itself away from the sword blade and then lunging toward it when Rue pulled back.

Finally, he made contact again, executing a horizontal swing that cracked against the insect's exoskeleton– before immediately sliding off again. The insect let loose an annoyed hiss and drove itself forward, and Rue barely had any time to dodge to the side before it hit him. The thing smashed head first into the wall, cracking the stone on impact, and Rue decided that he'd had enough. While it pulled itself away and tried to recover, he turned around and ran.

He didn't know if this was even the correct direction, he had gotten so turned around during the actual fight, but he had to hope it was or else he would probably wind up looping right back to the monster all over again. When he saw the approaching fork in the path, he dodged left, dashed down the corridor, and came skidding to a stop. Something burning red up ahead. He came to a stop, breathing hard, lungs aching, and realized he'd gone the wrong way.

Then he squinted into the darkness and realized no, he hadn't. Or at least not enough of a wrong way to loop back on himself.

The thing up ahead was much smaller than the ant-king, its silhouette low to the ground and heavy rather than spindly and many-legged. It seemed to have heard him; the top of its head lifted up, and it opened its mouth, revealing the sliver of light that he had seen a moment before, a fiery burning from somewhere inside its body. It also gave him a fleeting impression of what he was looking at; something reptilian, some kind of fire-based salamander.

To confirm his suspicion, the creature suddenly exhaled, expelling a tongue of flame toward him, blooming the corridor in light. Rue was briefly blinded by the flames, but managed to gather himself well enough to duck down to the side and hit the ground. Heat grazed his back, but the fire dissipated quickly, before the lizard could turn its attention on him. When darkness and cold returned, Rue slowly looked up, taking care that his movements were reserved and slow. He was out of the worst of it, but if he could avoid being set on fire by this lizard creature, he would prefer to do so.

He reached up to the tunnel wall, gripped one of the jutting stones, and used it to ease himself back to his feet. The lizard shifted – he heard it more than saw it – but didn't seem interested in him for the moment. It opened its mouth again, puffing out another soft burst of flame, and then slithered past him, moving back down the tunnel.

He almost let himself relax until he saw the crescent of swishing red up ahead.

The ant-king was following him.

The lizard exhaled another plume of flame, and though the insect was not yet close by he could see the edges of its form in the burst of heat. His flight instinct kicked in, screaming at him to turn around and just _go_, but he held his ground, staring at the lizard and the ant-king.

The ant-king had stopped, and judging by the way the shadows lashed across the far wall it was even going so far as to flail in the lizard's direction, hissing and clicking madly. The salamander, in response, opened its mouth and shrieked, and suddenly its whole body was alight with flame. The ant's frantic clicking became even more panicked, and it scrabbled backward down the passage, dodging away from the heat.

From the_ light_.

The salamander seemed rather content with itself, and had toned down its display, turning itself into a dully glowing ember in the midst of the darkness. It settled heavily on its legs, thumped its thick tail against the ground, and started to plod away, heading in the same direction as the ant but too slowly to be trying to pursue it.

Rue, in turn, moved after the salamander, fast enough to catch up to it but slow enough to keep his motions deliberate and quiet. If the salamander noticed him, it certainly didn't care, and remained blissfully ignorant of its pursuer right up until the sword cut through its back.

"Sorry," Rue whispered. "But I really need this."

A woman's voice whispered in his mind: _Quick and clean. Don't waste your energy, don't make it suffer. Don't damage anything we can use._

He slid the sword out of the salamander's body, and the monster slumped forward, blood bubbling to the surface and running in a thin line out of the wound and onto the floor, dead before it even realized it had been struck. Rue knelt down next to it, pressed his free hand to its side, and concentrated.

A few seconds later, tiny pinpricks of light drew themselves up out of the trail of blood, and more points of light rose out from its body. They coalesced in the air in front of him, a small sphere of glittering points that despite its brightness failed to cast any light. He watched it for a few seconds as it continued to rise, growing in size until it was the size about the size of a songbird's egg, at which point the last light from its body faded away and was absorbed into the floating sphere.

"Come on," he said quietly.

And at his call, the core of light trailed over to him. He caught it out of the air and felt its warmth disperse against his palm, rush through his bloodstream, and gather anew just behind his temples. He shut his eyes – there was almost a moment of nausea and disorientation, but he'd found that closing his eyes helped keep it at bay – and then it was over and he looked up, stood up, and took a moment to make sure he knew where he was and where he had been going. Then he checked to make sure all his personal effects were firmly secured, called up the warmth and light he had just stolen, and released it.

He was swept up in a whirl of burning blue, searing at his eyes and causing a dull ache to throb in his skull. It only lasted a moment – the ache and the light both – before dissipating, and where previously a very human-looking young man had been standing there was instead a much shorter, squatter creature, reptilian and mottled red, balancing on its hind legs and looking slightly confused.

New transformation was always somewhat discomfiting; there was always something different, something weird, something he forgot to take into account when he psyched himself up for the shift, or when he completely forgot to psyche himself up. Even when he'd used the power more regularly there was always that moment of having to readjust, when the environment was suddenly so much larger by comparison or suddenly having to balance with four limbs instead of two or not having limbs at all, which was always an interesting adventure. But he was out of practice – those months traveling with Klaus hadn't given him much need or occasion – and suddenly being half as tall as he had been in an already dark and disorienting environment gave him pause.

But that was why he oriented himself before transforming. Now all he had to do was walk forward and burn.

He lowered himself to the ground, tentatively putting weight on his forelegs, testing his limbs. Short, stubby, but powerful, which was a pleasant surprise; if he needed to make a break for it he could probably get some decent forward momentum. Not much for agility, but he hadn't harbored any illusions about that.

Basics taken care of. He turned his attention inward and felt the warmth of raw, unbound fire energy dancing just under the skin. He might have been out of practice transforming – and in the process of testing a new body on top of it – but calling on that internal magic was still second nature. He willed it to live, and the fire ignited, coating his thick-skinned form in a layer of pale orange flame and casting a bubble of light in a wide arc around himself.

The lizard's eyesight wasn't particularly good – it was a subterranean scavenger, it didn't need good eyes – but just having the light was such a massive improvement that the tunnels being a bit blurry was no trouble at all. He made his way carefully down the tunnel, easing his way into the salamander's instinctive movement, and was getting into the rhythm of it by the time he reached the fork in the road.

He looked down the two paths, leaning his head forward and sniffing at the air. The left path smelled of mildew; the right path smelled, far more distressingly, of nothing whatsoever.

Left, then.

That was how he went from there, with the salamander's heavy gait carrying him through the tunnels, the fire providing light and keeping at bay anything else that could possibly live down here. It wasn't terribly fast, but it kept him safe and kept him moving constantly in the right direction.

There were a few more of those massive ant-like beasts roaming the halls, but they didn't dare get near his light; when one of them looked a bit too curious he just had to burn the flames a little hotter and it stopped being curious pretty quickly. The rest of his passage, then, went by without incident until he passed under a somewhat abnormal-looking path and suddenly the world opened up around him.

He was on a narrow pathway that had been carved into the wall of a massive cavern. To his right was stone; to his left, the path was just wide enough for two people to walk side by side before it dropped precipitously downward to a bottom he couldn't actually see. He could hear it, though; there was a sound of splashing, a waterfall meeting a lake, and a little further ahead he saw the waterfall cascading past his little path and tumbling down to the bottom of the passage.

He continued his slow, plodding walk until he reached the other end of the path and found that it simply smacked him straight into a wall. There had been no other passages along the pathway, either, at least nothing visible and nothing that seemed to demarcate a secret door. There was, however, something that looked like it had once been a sloping path leading left; it was badly eroded and crumbling, but as he stared at it for a moment it became clear that it was supposed to have been a ramp descending down to the bottom of the passage.

He scraped the lizard's claws against the rock, checking to see if maybe it could scale the wall, but it was no good; they weren't made for climbing walls. With an internal sigh of resignation he released his hold on the lizard's body and, with another wash of blue light, returned to his regular form, still on his hands and knees, looking over the edge of the cliff.

He didn't have the benefit of the firelight any more, but now he needed to be able to see distantly and clearly and at least he had an idea of the layout. Maybe the fall wasn't too far; maybe the water was deep enough that he wouldn't break half the bones in his body if he just fell down. Or maybe there was something else sitting in his reservoir of monster spirits, something with wings so he could try and glide down to the–

He snapped fully to attention.

At the opposite side of the room there was suddenly a flash, like a little ball of pale sunlight, followed shortly by a splash and a thrashing of water. Was that the lantern?

He shouted across the cavernous room, but his voice was swallowed into darkness. No good, then; he'd have to make his way down. But on the other hand it didn't look like the fall was as bad as he'd assumed, judging by where the lantern seemed to have landed, and there was ample water to break his fall. He'd just have to hang off the wall before dropping, chew up a few feet between himself and the water. The pack was going to get soaked, and the gladius, but the latter was in desperate need of being cleaned anyway and the food in the former was wrapped tight enough it could probably survive. Even if not, getting out of the mines would probably be far easier than it had been getting in; they would survive.

He paced along the edge of the drop for a moment, scanning to see if there was some indication of a good place to drop down, when he realized something was blocking the visibility of the lantern light, a massive shadow sitting idly around the middle of the room, near-ish to where he was standing. It took him a minute to make sense of it, but after a few more seconds of dedicated staring he realized exactly what he was seeing.

. .

Mint was still confused, and now she was tired, sore, sweating, and frustrated all on top of that. Bad combination.

She had been walking down the tunnel for a way before she came upon something different. Ahead of her she was at a crossroads, four paths all converging into one; behind her, ahead of her, to the left and right. A support pillar sat near one of them, its base covered by shattered rock, a sad and lost little reminder of the mines. Other than that, all four paths looked the same. She tried shining the lantern further down one of them, then the other, then the last, but as far as her light reached all she saw was more tunnel.

"Well this sucks," she growled.

She looked left, then right, then straight ahead, and then turned around and went right back down the tunnel she had just come from. She had been in enough bizarre magician's traps to know how these things worked; with no obvious clues to work with, the stupidest idea was usually the one to follow through with.

She walked down the tunnel in the opposite direction for a while, uninterrupted by anything that would be mistaken for 'interesting', until she came to another fork in the road– another four-pronged crossroad, with the same distinguishing features as the last one.

Well, that hadn't helped.

She hung right and made her way down the tunnel anew. It snaked slightly, but she seemed to be going on a relatively straight path, even on the faintest of inclines. It didn't make it any less boring, but she could start to picture the map in her head. Try to keep herself straight. Try to–

"Are you _kidding me_."

Another four-pronged crossroad, the route directly ahead of her bearing that lonesome, useless support beam. She growled to herself and hung a sharp left; if she went right, an this whole place was made of crossroads like this, she would eventually wind up somewhere near the path she had chosen not to take earlier. She was trying to move away from that, on a hunch, just knowing the directly she had been pointing when she'd started out. When spontaneously teleported, always go backwards before you go forwards. They always point you in the wrong direction. Just common sense.

(Perhaps 'common sense' was a strong term, but magicians seemed to like doing that. It was disorienting, it was odd, and if you weren't used to it you would inevitably fall into the trap and carry on walking straight in the wrong direction. She wondered how much treasure she had found just because the saps who had gone in before her hadn't had the sense to look over their collective shoulder.)

When she came to the fourth crossroad that looked exactly alike, however, she was starting to suspect something else was amiss.

She took stock of the crossroads. Left, forward, right; the path directly forward was held up by a support beam. Then, slowly, she turned and worked her way back to the last crossroad. Stopped. Same as usual; left, forward, right. Directly ahead of her was the path with the support beam.

But she'd gone left when she'd come into this room, when – again – the way directly forward had born the support pillar. It should have been to her left.

_Ah_, she thought. _I see._

She walked into the middle of the crossroad and did a quick scan, then marched straight forward, past the pillar, and only a few steps further along she realized that something was different. The light from the lantern gleamed just a little more off the rocks; the air tasted just a little thicker. Dampness, humidity. She was working her way further inward.

The tunnel narrowed somewhat around her, twisted on itself, seemed to be constructed in such a way that it would pass through itself, although it never did. This section continued for a little way, more disorienting and bizarre than the last one, until it opened out again into a split path, only two ways this time. The two paths, to her eyes, looked indistinguishable at first, but after a bit of back and forth she realized something. Or at least suspected it.

She snuffed out the lantern.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and it became more apparent there; the glowing lichen on the walls continued a ways down both paths, but heading right she could see the gentle glow receding into the distance; leftward, it petered out and vanished. The right path was better built to accommodate the fungus, then– more humidity? Is that what she wanted?

She tried the left side first, making her way down the dark tunnel until she had to re-weave the lantern spell. After a few minutes, she came again to a fork in the road, and cursed herself slightly for her lack of foresight. She should have found a way to mark the wall just in case it also turned into a loop.

Although she didn't quite need to; now that she knew what to expect, it was obvious that she had managed to coil right back onto herself and was standing at the crux of the same fork once again. She moved right, and again she could taste the oncoming heaviness of the air. The walls ran slick again, and this time, echoing down through the tunnel and back toward her, she could hear a sound– a dull roar, and a hiss. Falling water, like what she'd heard on the other side of the wall, before she had been thrown into this new tunnel system.

She took that as a good sign.

She pressed onward, using every advantage she could if she came to another fork or a crossroads; looking for signs of humidity, for water along the walls, for implanted clues, for the sound of the falls. She seemed to be making some kind of headway, but after a few more repetitions of the formula she was starting to get frustrated again. She understood the concept; how much further did she have to go to prove it?

Eventually, after going gentle left on yet another three-pronged passage, the floor suddenly sloped significantly downward. She followed it, but very carefully; the rock was slick, the stone worn and a little too smooth for her liking, the decline surprisingly sharp. She was somewhat concerned with her current course, but she knew she was one to something, too. After a certain point, the walls became scraped and smooth, veins of cobalt coloring the passage in streaks of blues and greens, augmented by the clusters of lichen.

Her heart was racing. She knew she was approaching something, she had to be, everything was suddenly different here, the atelier was probably just at the end of the passage–!

Then she hit the slick part of the rock, where the moisture and the fungus had united into a soft blanket of gently glowing cyan. Her foot shot out from under her, and she slammed onto her back on the rock, knocking the wind out from her lungs and the lantern out of her hands. A jolt ripped through her, excruciating pain rocketing up along her spine and down her limbs, and before she had any chance to recover or react, gravity had already taken over. She went crashing down the incline, trying to curl up to mitigate the impact, seeing small flashes of bright orange light bouncing past her as the lantern followed her down, down, and–

She came to a stop with a splash and shoved herself upright. The actual impact had not been nearly as painful as she had expected; the fall had been broken by a layer of water a couple of feet deep; enough to absorb the worst of her impact, and enough to almost drown her on contact.

She gagged and wretched, spitting out the stagnant water that had rushed up her nostrils and into her mouth, and once she was free of it she gasped, held her breath, forced herself to relax. She was soaking, and abruptly cold and a little numb, although beneath the chill from the water she could feel her whole body pulsing in pain. The trip down had not been kind, but all the more reason to keep moving. She knew she was going to feel it the instant she let herself settle down for too long. Tomorrow in particular was going to be hell.

But that was a concern for tomorrow. For right then, she managed to coordinate her limbs well enough to get her feet back under her, and then shove the rest of her body up out of the water. She shook herself off as best she could, but with the water reaching partway up her thighs it would be useless if she couldn't get somewhere a little more dry.

She looked around, but wherever she had landed was cavernous and dark in addition to being wet. She spun, looking back the way she came, and saw a dull light still shining on under the water. The spell was holding up. Not that she expected her own handiwork to fray after a little liquid immersion.

Slowly, dragging herself against the water, she made her way toward the lantern. She contemplated what to do next. Maybe she could displace the water, making a little air bubble around herself, force the water out of her clothes and hair with magic and make a proper exploration of wherever she had landed. She could hear the dull roar of the falls somewhere nearby; they must have been elsewhere in the room, and by their sound she had a feeling that wherever she had landed, it was massive. There had to be _something _in there.

A few grueling paces away from the lantern, there was another splash from somewhere behind her.

She froze.

The noise did not repeat itself. She waited one beat, then two, and then stepped forward as quick as she could, snatching the lantern from beneath the water. From behind her, there was another sound of water displacing, something dragging itself through the water toward her.

She turned and held the lantern higher, infusing its light core with some of her own power. It flared bright hot for a second before settling down to a more tolerable light level, not quite so blinding but definitely more useful than the dinky light she had been relying on thus far.

The new light still wasn't enough to see the entire room by, but the temporary flash burst had illuminated a fair chunk of it. Not that Mint could concentrate on the room; her concentration happened to fall on something directly in front of her.

"Oh," she breathed. "Guess I found the monster."

That was all she could manage. Some of her muscles were trying desperately to react, but she was too sore to actually manage much more than stare.

The thing was sitting on top of a fractured pillar in front of her, suspended just above the water level, facing her. Its face was long and thin and sharp, the beak of a predatory bird with the benefit of also being lined with very visible teeth. It face was leaning in to her, but she could just make out the rest of its form moving backward; a long, snaking neck that curved upward and made a long, sinuous route back down, its tail eventually curling around the support of the pillar. Huge forearms ending in massive claws clutched the ragged stump of stone; hind claws dug thick, ragged furrows behind it. It was draconic and serpentine, and also entirely skeletal. Its empty eye sockets, made even deeper by the lantern's light, stared down at her across its tooth-lined back, already partially open in anticipation of sinking into her flesh.

Well, if she had to die, this was at least a kind of cool way to go.

But as she kept standing there, waiting for it to lunge, it simply sat on the pillar, looking threatening but failing to act on it. After a few more seconds of this, of this bizarre, silent standoff, Mint was starting to suspect that something was amiss.

She stepped toward the creature. It remained stationary. Still as a statue.

Which was exactly what it was.

The bone dragon, she saw, was not digging its claws so far into the stone they sank in; it was carved as part of the stone. It was, she had to admit, a remarkable piece of work, but that was all; just art.

"Mint!"

She looked up and around the statue in time to see Rue, looking just as wet as her, drag himself into the lantern light.

"Oh, hey," she said. "You made it."

"Y-yeah. Eventually." He pulled himself close to her and turned his gaze onto the bone dragon. "This isn't real?"

"Just some weird decoration," she said. "Dunno what it's doing in the middle of this room."

He regarded her for a moment, and when he spoke, it was somewhat slow and tentative. "You haven't seen it yet?"

That was a bit of a non-sequitur. "Seen what?"

"This is–" He stopped himself, then waved his hand toward the darkness behind them. "Flash the lantern again."

He must have seen that from wherever he'd been, then. She didn't bother asking questions or reprimanding him for ordering her; something about the tone of his voice sounded a little bright, and she didn't really know what to make of that.

So she charged the lantern with her own magic again, causing a temporary burst of light to flare out again. This time, though, not having to worry about the bone dragon, she saw what he was talking about.

Behind the dragon, toward the opposite wall, was a pyramid, whitewashed walls streaked with garish patterns. Mold and algae were trying to crawl up its sides, but the fungal life was clearing fighting a losing battle; most of the structure was still pristine, not even appearing damp. A magic barrier, then. One that _had_ been sealed up properly.

She saw all of this in only a couple of seconds, then the light faded and the room was swallowed in darkness again.

"Elroy's atelier?" she asked.

"I'd bet on it," Rue said.

Mint grinned.

"Hold still," she said. "And hold this." She handed him the lantern, took her rings into her hands, and concentrated. Then, feeling their energy charge through her, she brought them together. The water around her and soaking into her clothes suddenly spread outward, pushed away by a thick tangle of magic threads, drying her off and providing a bubble of force that kept the water at bay. She re-focused her efforts and repeated the spell, affording Rue the same courtesy.

"Th-thank you," he said, a little taken aback. "That's– that's pretty impressive."

She waved one of her rings as though swatting away at his words. "It's nothing," she said nonchalantly. "Now c'mon."

She turned to face the pyramid and infused her rings with energy, allowing them to shine bright gold. It wasn't as convenient as the lantern – holding an enchantment was always harder than just re-forming one that already waiting – but she didn't want to rely on being too close to Rue if they both wanted to see something.

Thus, dry and illuminated, they headed toward the atelier.


	8. Hunters

**Eight || Hunters**

* * *

Mint took point and led the way on the approach to the entrance of the atelier. There was a rather conspicuous incongruity to the rest of the pyramid, a rectangular hallway protruding toward them, at the end of which a door would inevitably stand.

"Now we get to hope it's not locked," Mint said cheerily. "That'd be great fun, trying to find a key down here." Having said it, her mind suddenly went elsewhere, and she looked over her shoulder to Rue. "So how'd you end up finding me, anyway?"

"Something released a lot of magic," he said. "I think you got sent one way and I went another. They both met here."

"Is that what happened?" Mint asked. "I was just walking along and suddenly I was elsewhere."

"Far as I can tell," Rue said. "You didn't feel it?"

"No." She paused, then stopped and turned to face him. "How did _you_?"

He looked at her quizzically, but didn't stop walking, slipping right past her and heading toward the door. "It was a pretty substantial bit of magic," he said. "Raw, though. Unwoven. Something must've broken."

"That's not what I asked," she said sharply. She rotated to keep facing him, but once he had gotten a few feet ahead of her she leapt after him and caught him by the shoulder. He stopped, but didn't face her. "I asked how you saw it. I didn't see anything."

"You weren't actively looking though, right?"

Her brow furrowed. "Granted. But I imagine _you_ weren't looking for magic."

"No. But it wasn't insubstantial. I just... felt it."

She let go of his shoulder, but slid up directly alongside him, trying to lean over to look him in the eye. He studiously avoided acknowledging her. "You're not a mage," she said. "You don't do magic. Right?"

"Right."

"Mostly it's only people who've been trained in magic that can see spells like that. Err... feel them." She narrowed her gaze. "I remember Klaus gave you that seal key to have a look at before you handed it to me. You were feeling for magic."

"Also right."

"But you're not trained for it."

He shrugged again.

"_Where_ did you say you were from?" Mint asked.

But before the last of the sentence had left her lips, Rue had come to an abrupt stop. He was staring ahead, silent, but visibly tense. Mint followed his gaze and saw that he was staring at the door of the atelier. There was nothing remarkable about it, as far as magician workshop's went; it was overly elaborate as any of them, stuffed with runic markings and personal identifiers and lots of swirly lines that had been carved into the design for the sake of swirly lines. Nothing unusual about that.

"What?" she said.

"Somebody's here."

Mint felt a little cold, but kept her voice under control. "What?"

He started to walk again, a quick-stepping pace, and Mint immediately followed. Then she jolted into a run and cut in front of him, stopping a few feet shy of the door herself.

It was open.

It wasn't much, but the door clearly should have been flush with the walls; the design snaked out and around, crept into the surrounding fixtures, radiated around the sides. It was old and worn and eroded, but the intent was obvious– as was the fact that the door had been slid into the wall and badly closed behind, leaving a notable slice of darkness between the edge of the door and the walls.

Mint reached out and pushed the edges of her fingers against the door, intending at first to slide it open. She stopped dead, however, as a rush of magic flooded past her. Old magic, stale, frayed: an old spell recently broken, still in the process of dying.

"This was supposed to be locked," she said. "Somebody came through and broke it."

Rue came up next to her and pressed his hand against the door. He closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating. "This is it," he said. He looked up and backed away. "Same magic that dragged us in here."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely."

Mint considered the implication. If he was right – and she really had no reason to believe he was lying to her – then he had probably felt the release of all the gathered magic. The seal was old, and judging by its remains it had been a powerful spell. Breaking it would have released a massive amount of untamed magic; enough, perhaps to disrupt the spell Elroy had woven into his labyrinth, the spell the two of them had been standing in the middle of when the magic was released.

That was a reasonable guess as to how they had ended up from the entrance of the labyrinth to somewhere in the middle of it. Probably saved them some aggravation trying to navigate it, actually.

Of course, that was also going to make getting back out a right pain in the ass.

_Later_, she told herself.

"All right," she said, lowering her voice. "So whatever broke the seal did it while we were here. Not long ago."

"Agreed."

"So they're still here."

Rue did not respond immediately. Instead, he sidled next to Mint, got his grip on the edge of the door, and began to pull to the side, forcing it open. It started to slide, and once there was a little more room Mint put her back into it, shoving along while he pulled. The door growled in protest, but fortunately it was a fairly quiet noise, and after a few seconds of struggle they had the door mostly open.

Rue, panting, turned to face Mint.

"It's pretty likely," he said breathlessly.

She forced her own breathing back to normal, bit back her panting, and nodded. "How d'you– d'you figure somebody got in here before we did? You think they know what's down here?"

"Dunno. We'll just have to– have to see."

But neither of them moved immediately. They both stared into the dark opening as though expecting something to come raging out at them, but everything remained silent. Then, slowly, Mint raised a ring in front of her face, casting warm light before her, and started the trip.

There was a short hall, stonework and old chipped paint, but it wasn't long before the hall suddenly opened up. She faltered slightly when the stifling atmosphere suddenly gave way to so much more space, but caught herself and continued to walk forward. Water splashed up against her shield, murky and thick even in her projected light. She wondered briefly if the water had been sitting stagnant in the pyramid all these years, or only just entered when the door was opened. She suspected the latter; if it had been rotting inside the atelier all this time, the stone floor beneath her would have been slick with decay.

She motioned behind her, and a few seconds later – at her beckoning or not – Rue stepped into the room behind her, holding the lantern close to him to conceal some of its light.

Mint looked around. A hunk of crystal hung overhead, long arms spearing downward; chances were that had once been the central source of light, back when the atelier had needed it. The walls all sloped upward, disappearing somewhere above the crystal lamp, where they doubtless came together to form the tip of the pyramid. On their level there were promises of other rooms, door stationed in each corner of the atelier, and about ten feet above them was a walkway that suggested there was a second floor. No indication of anything higher than that, although at that point the pyramid's compression would have made fitting more rooms rather difficult.

"I don't hear anything," Rue said. "You think they left?"

"If they did, they better not have taken anything good." She nodded to one of the doors. "Split up. See if there's anything of value over there. I'll take these doors."

He nodded, and they went off their separate ways, Rue checking the doors to the right while Mint opened the ones to the left.

The first room she tried was an instant disappointment; water flooded into it, same as the rest of the atelier, causing the few bits of ancient furniture that remained inside – a simple stool, a simple chair, both of them unusually small – to float about level with her waist. There was a desk, a counter, cabinets beneath it– already opened, already ransacked, and if there had been any evidence of what had been inside or if anything had actually be there to steal, it had been flooded out with the tide.

Still, she performed a sweet of the room, looking in the corners, under the table, feeling around for any old magic that might be concealing something juicy. She came up with nothing.

She marched back out of the room, pausing at the door to have a look outside for any signs of movement. Seeing nothing, she ducked to the side and ran for the other door, shoving it open.

Unfortunately, the second room was just as empty as the first; a few useless bits of debris bobbing sadly on the water, empty counters, empty cabinets. Although maybe it was for the best; if there were anything left in here – paper products especially – the water would have destroyed them completely.

Small comfort to her, though. For all the trouble getting down to this place – for Elroy's disorienting security spells, for the tight spell he had wound on the door to his workshop – she had been expecting to see more _stuff_. It didn't even need to be particularly expensive or even interesting, but she had been hoping for more than crumbling chairs and tables.

She left the room, irate, but was still careful to do a quick scan outside the door and up on the balcony above before stepping fully into the foyer again. She shot a glance around, making her way slowly across the open space.

Then, a light. She looked up, across the room, and saw Rue leaning out of one of the doors, inching his lantern around the side. His gaze fell on Mint, and he waved her over. She jogged lightly to the door, and he pushed it all the way open, letting her slide in before it shut quietly behind them.

"You find something?" she asked.

But a look around the room and it became apparent she needn't have asked.

The room Rue had found was vastly different from the ones Mint had been in. It was a fair bit larger but much less open, populated as it was by rows of long stone tables, all of them solidly attached to the floor, the water level coming up a few inches shy of covering the tops. Shelves populated the walls, and strange objects populated the shelves. Mint stepped toward the nearest shelf and cast light over the objects, finding rows upon rows of metal objects: gears, connector rods, ball pivots. She was also assured again that the water damage was recent; all of the metal implements were in excellent health, beneath the heavy layer of dust.

"It's some kind of workshop," Rue said. "A physical one. That's not what got me, though. Over here."

He moved past her and toward a table further back in the room, where the shadows ran deep and their combined light hadn't quite reached. As he moved toward it, though, Mint saw the figure appear, its shape forming like welling liquid as Rue's lantern light washed over it. From where she was standing, it looked like a clump of dark, earth-tone fabrics thrown in a heap on the table. As she approached, the shape tried to coalesce in her mind, but she was having a hard time making out any details until she was right up next to it and she suddenly recognized that what she had taken for a bit of cloth draped over the table's edge was actually an arm.

She bit back a yelp of surprise and stared at it, temporarily stricken. Rue approached from the other side and reached out.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

"It's not real," he said. "Look."

He took it by the shoulder and pulled, lifting the thing onto its side. Mint couldn't help but grimace; it certainly looked like a poorly-wrapped corpse to _her._

But on examination she realized he was right. It was a humanoid construct – two arms, two legs, a torso, a head – but it was clearly not human, merely shaped to resemble one. The whole body was tightly bound in thick brown cloth and leather straps, but when she reached out to touch it, it felt soft and malleable, like it was stuffed. The place where the head should have been was the same, just a stuffed bulb wrapped tight to retain its shape, wearing a strange metal visor roughly where the eyes would be. Rue made his point again by taking the thing's wrist and pulling it, making the elbow move. The stuffing bunched up unnaturally, and the movement was accompanied by a muffled mechanical clicking. When he laid it back down on the slab, the arm remained in the same position.

"I think it's some kind of mechanical doll," he said.

Mint prodded it again, this time harder, half expecting it to suddenly leap to life. It remained mercifully inert. "Why would anybody make something like this?" she asked.

"Couldn't say. I don't think he finished, though." He pulled back on a loose length of cloth – almost a cape – that lay across the creature, revealing a hollow carved into the thing's back. There were a few loose tubes protruding from the sides, and it had clearly been built to house something else. "I'd guess the power source would go in here."

She nodded and looked back up, past Rue and to the shelves behind him. They were not overflowing with mechanical goods. That side of the room seemed much more... organic.

"What's behind you?" she asked slowly.

Rue looked over his shoulder. "Body parts," he said. "Um, for the dolls, I mean."

"Plural?"

He pointed to the nearest corner, and there it was, sitting nonchalantly on a tall stone platform, its back propped up against the wall while its feet rose and fell lazily, buoyed by the water. Its head was slumped against its chest, and its hands were folded delicately into its lap. If she hadn't known better – that is, not known that the thing was inanimate and then also not known it was terrifying – she could almost imagine it taking a nap.

"That's awesome," Mint said. "Just really pleasant, this whole place is. Did you happen to find anything that _isn't_ horrifying while you were in here?"

"Maybe."

He flipped his rucksack to face forward and zipped open the top. He reached in, grasped something, and pulled it out, showing it to Mint. It was cube, a bit larger than his palm, golden in color and engraved with strange geometric patterns. She took it from his hand, a bit awkwardly at first – it was heavier than it looked – and twisted around so she could see it from all angles.

"Hmm," she said. "What is this?"

"I think it's valuable, whatever it is," Rue said. "The doll was holding it."

"_Holding_."

"I mean– sorry, it wasn't holding it. It didn't have a grip or anything. It was just laying in its lap, between its hands. Posed, I guess."

"Staged," Mint said.

"Maybe."

She looked at the cube again, closed her eyes, poked at it mentally. There was magic there, she could almost feel it, but the source of energy was stirring inside the cube and she could actually reach through to feel it. The cube itself was dampening magic, keeping whatever was inside from getting out– and keeping Mint's investigation from getting in.

When she looked up again, she was smiling.

"This is definitely worthwhile," she said. She hesitated, contemplated, and then decided to hand the box back to Rue. He accepted it and stowed it in his rucksack. "That the only thing in this room?"

He gestured to the doll lying on the table. "Unless you want to take one of these with us!" he said.

His voice was so perfectly calm and flat that she had no idea if he was joking.

"I don't think they'll travel well," she said.

"Probably not."

They headed back toward the door.

"Second floor, then?" Mint asked.

"You didn't find anything in the other rooms?"

"Not a thing."

Rue reached the door first and pressed his hand against it, gently sliding it open just enough to see through. He took a peek outside, then fully opened the door and walked, with Mint following just behind him. She turned and slid it back shut, but when she moved away from it again she almost rammed into Rue.

"What is it?" she snarled.

"Company," he said quietly. Mint leaned around him to see.

A man was standing in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets, nonchalant as anything as he watched them, his head tilted slightly to the side, his mouth crooked into a half-smile. His features were angular, his built athletic, but he was only a couple of inches taller than Mint and his limited height mitigated any of the intimidation he might have built up otherwise. He was slightly tanned and wearing decent clothes, although his pants and boots and the bottom of his long white coat were thoroughly soaked through. The edge of his silhouette was slightly aglow and still a little indistinct; sure signs of short-range teleportation.

"Thought I heard something," he said genially. "You kids seem a little lost."

Mint stepped around Rue and walked forward, waving her ring in his direction. It was accusatory and threatening, but it was also so she could cast a little more light on him. She was looking to see if they had ever met before, if she'd ever even seeing him in passing, if she'd ever heard of a description of the guy.

Absolutely nothing.

"Who the _hell_ are you?" she asked.

He shook his head, clicked his tongue. "Tut, tut. That's not language a lady should be using."

"Maybe not," Rue said, "but it's a decent question. Who _are_ you?"

He pressed a hand against his chest and made a shallow bow. "Duke," he said. "Just a humble treasure hunter." He rose upright again, his gaze flicking between the two of them. "And I was just coming down here to have a look at the rooms."

"Have fun," Rue said. "There's nothing worthwhile."

Duke smiled, but his eyes narrowed dangerously. "Maybe not anymore," he said, "but if it's all the same to you, I'd like to have a look at anything you might have picked up. We didn't come all this way just for the dregs upstairs."

"Dregs?" Rue repeated.

"_We_?" Mint repeated.

"Duke!" A separate voice suddenly calling from somewhere above them, echoing against the stonework before being absorbed by the water. At the sound, Mint felt a strange little thrum in her chest, although she could not figure out quite why. She looked up to the balcony just as the drumming of footsteps filtered out to them, and saw somebody else emerge, leaning over the wall around the balcony, lit up by the torch they were holding. A woman this time, probably in her thirties, with platinum blond hair and a predilection toward dark and well-tailored clothes. Mint found herself staring.

"Oh," she said finally. "Oh, no way..."

The woman's attention was immediately turned toward the man. "Duke," she repeated. "You're doing an awful lot of talking."

"Just making pleasant conversation, milady," he said, nodding to Rue and Mint. "We have company."

The woman's gaze – steely, gray – followed Duke's, and she settled on the two again. Mint watched right back. Then she saw it; the spark of recognition, the curling of the lip.

"Of _course_," she growled. "You _would_ be here, wouldn't you?"

Rue shot a glance at Mint, then up to the woman. "You're... acquainted...?" he asked tentatively.

"Milady, you know her?" Duke asked.

The woman leaned casually on the side of the wall, shifting the torch to her other hand and waving it out into the air, casting the gathering on the first floor in a warm orange light. "Oh yeah," she said. "Didn't I ever tell you that story?"

"I don't believe so."

"Oh, it's a good one. That piece of work down there," and she pointed, "is little Princess Mint. 'Bout a year ago, I was– _where are you going_?"

Mint had been going toward the exit, gently tugging Rue along by the arm behind her while he was briefly paralyzed by confusion. When the woman called her out, she stopped and looked up to her.

"You don't need me here while you're telling your stupid story," she called. "We were just leaving."

"Mint," Rue said slowly. "What is happening?"

Mint dropped her voice and spoke quickly. "The old crone up top there is Belle. We're... acquainted. And that guy is apparently Duke–"

"I figured out that part."

"–but he's a recent addition. At least, he wasn't around when we ran into each other before."

"Sorry to interrupt your little talks," Belle called, "but you seem to be leaving rather soon and I'm afraid we're not done yet. Duke, get the door."

"Yes, milady."

He side-stepped and vanished, reappearing a heartbeat later standing just in front of Mint, bodily blocking the way to the entrance. Mint raised the dual rings in front of her, pressing them together and generating a cloud of pale magic between them.

"Get out of the way," she said.

In response, Duke leaned against the wall. Mint gritted her teeth and drew one arm back, forming a long line of crackling energy between the two rings, preparing to fire off a blast of magic when the water behind them exploded.

The spray rebounded off her shield, but the sound and the impact were enough to turn her attention. She cut off her working spell and spun around to see Belle standing on the balcony, a ball of light in her free hand, winding up to hurl another blast of magic down at them.

"I know you've found something!" she yelled. "Hand it over!"

"Not likely!"

"Duke!"

At that, Mint was suddenly smashed bodily from behind. She slammed into the ground shoulder-first, her bubble-shield wavering, and flipped onto her back in time to see Duke flicker and vanish. Confused, she flipped herself back to her feet and saw him still standing by the doorway, not quite so casual. And another him vaulting in Rue's direction.

"What the–"

Another pillar of water erupted alongside her, the force of it bowling her over and sending her sprawling against the ground again, slightly disoriented. Fine cracks were opening in her shield as the spell lightly un-wove itself, sending rivulets of water dribbling down the interior of the bubble. She considered closing the gaps, but at that moment Belle launched herself off the balcony and onto the ground floor. She used the water level to break her fall, but killed her torch-light in the process.

Which instantly made her much more difficult to see.

Not hear, though. Belle was charging through the water as best she could, splashing loudly through the water, and Mint twisted herself around and brought the rings in front of her, burning hot white between them. She yanked one arm back, dragging the light into a solid, blunt-edged line, and aimed out into the darkness where she heard Belle approaching. She waited one second, two, and as soon as her face appeared Mint angled slightly down and released her hold, launching the magic forward as though releasing the string of a bow.

The light arrow crashed into Belle's chest and sent her backward. Mint heard the splash and launched herself to her feet, running to where she had struck Belle. The woman was thrashing her way back to her feet, soaked and coughing, and Mint took the opportunity to dispense with fancy tactics and just brain Belle with her rings.

Belle was too fast; she lashed her arm out, caught Mint's, and yanked down hard. She got one leg into Mint's bubble shield and pulled forward, slamming her knee just below Mint's ribs. Instantly the air left her lungs and Mint staggered, gasping for breath, her eyes watering. Belle was already moving again, but the water was dragging her back and it barely gave Mint an opportunity to recover enough to throw herself to the side of an oncoming burst of flame.

Then she saw it.

By the light of the fire she saw something glint golden on Belle's makeshift belt, a thin circlet of metal that was far fancier than it had any right to be. She saw it only for an instant, before the flames were extinguished against the water and Belle had pivoted so the object was out of sight, but Mint suddenly had a new goal.

She shot a glance over her shoulder. Rue was holding off Duke – or the shadow-Duke, alter-Duke, illusion-Duke, whatever was going on over there – but only just. Whatever not-quite-real Duke he was fighting was slicing through the water like it wasn't even there, although his fists plainly were as he was battering at Rue with a long and swift series of punches. Much to Rue's credit, he was doing an admirable job between his own footwork and rather clumsy swordplay keeping Duke at bay, but it was clear that he couldn't keep this up much longer. Nor, she hated to admit it, could Mint; that blow to the solar plexus was making it hard to get a full breath of air, and her limbs were a little shaky for it, and her grip on the bubble shields was rapidly fraying.

She had to act immediately, or not at all.

Belle was creating another handful of guttering light, stepping back and away from Mint to give herself more space. But that put Mint at an advantage; she might have been winded and hurting, but she wasn't fighting against water density to move.

So she moved.

She launched herself forward, ignoring the powerful stitch forming in her chest, and shoved both rings into one hand, using her other hand to drag the light of them. Their energy died off, and she clasped their burning gold in one hand, closed up between her fingers. For a few seconds, the only light she could see by was what Belle was generating in her hand– which gave me a nice, easy place to aim for.

She dove and brought her hand up in an arc. She was too low to bunch Belle in the face – what a pity – but that had never been her intention. Instead, she closed her eyes and opened her hand.

The captured light erupted outward in a blinding flare; she saw it even behind tightly shut eyelids. Belle cried out and abandoned her own spell, bringing both hands to her face to shield her eyes. Mint touched down on the ground, crouching, and then sprang forward and snatched at the item hanging from Belle's side.

She twisted in the air, rolled over her back, leapt onto her feet, and came to a screeching halt. She wheeled around, waving the object in the air, and shouted, "I got a thing! We're out!"

Rue seemed to have been waiting for the word. He ducked to the side of Duke's next attack and rose up behind, jamming his elbow into not-Duke's neck. The not-Duke fell face-first into the water and shimmered into nothing. Real Duke, still standing in the doorway, looked up.

"You don't think you're leaving that easily?" he asked.

Mint shoved her prize onto her belt and hurled one of her rings his way. He ducked it easily and shot her an almost indignant look before turning his attention to Rue. Rue had just arrived at the edge of the door and was already swinging his sword down to Duke's midsection, but the man was dreadfully fast and had a surprisingly long reach. He stopped Rue's wrist with his own arm, and brought up his other hand to go for a solid uppercut, at which point Mint snatched at a fine thread of magic in the air and flicked her wrist.

The wring, tied to the other end of the magic thread, responded immediately, changing trajectory instantly and flying back through the air right along the path it had traveled down, which at that moment was newly occupied by the back of Duke's head. The solid metal disk cracked against his skull and sent him staggering forward. Rue finished the job by roughly shoving him aside, sending him toppling into the water.

"Go!" Mint shouted, and Rue ducked into the passage. Mint wheeled around to see Belle storming toward her, still squinting but now surrounded by a dancing ring of flame. Mint brought her rings together, concentrated, and slashed them against each other, dragging one up into the air. The water in front of the passageway decided to follow, a curtain of water rising up to block the passage just as Belle ordered her flames forward. They crashed against the water curtain, exploding into a cloud of steam, and Mint decided that was good enough for the moment. She staggered around and charged back for the door.

She burst through the other side, and as soon as she was out Rue was shoving the stone door shut. Once he had it closed, he turned to Mint, panting hard, and stepped away.

"That won't hold them long," he said, finally taking the opportunity to shove the gladius back in its sheath and plucking the lantern back up from where he had put it down beneath the water; she found herself vaguely impressed that he had managed to hold on to it. "We have to get out of here." Then his eyes flickered down to her waist. "What's that?"

She pulled it free to show it to him. "Looks like a tiara," she said. "Belle had it. I figured if she wanted it, it must be worth something." She twisted in the light, let the glow reflect off its sides, studied it. There was magic in there, thrumming under her fingers, although the energy was tangled in a way she had never seen before.

"Was that everything?"

"Everything I saw," Mint said. "We'll have to worry about anything else later." She hooked it back on her belt. As she did, there was a _thump_ from behind, of somebody slamming into the stone door, and they exchanged a quick glance.

"We're gone," she said, and Rue did not dare object.

They ran, Mint leading the way this time, straight forward. She was heading back for the way she had come in originally. It was a slippery slope and might be hard to scale properly, but she didn't have time to work out where Rue had come in and certainly didn't have time to work out where Belle and Duke had come in.

As they ran, something caught her eye. She slowed. She stopped. She turned, and Rue came to a stop next to her, still breathing hard.

"What is it?" he asked.

She raised a ring and re-infused it with light, casing another circle of gold around them. They were at the pillar posted in front of the atelier, the one that had been adorned by the bone dragon's statue.

_Had been_.

Mint whispered, "Oh crap."

They both looked up, toward the atelier. Mint flashed the light from her ring and illuminated the room.

As it turned out, the sound they had heard – something heavy and solid slamming against stone – had not been from inside the atelier.

The bone dragon was sitting four-legged on top of the atelier entrance, its head angled down to watch them, claws digging into the walls around the door, long tail hanging over the side of the protruding entryway, dangling lazily as the tip skimmed the surface of the water, its hollow eye sockets turned upon them. It opened its mouth and released a long, rattling _hiss_, wing stumps on its back unfurling slightly. They burned a soft and strangely inviting orange.

"Really?" Mint demanded of nobody. "_Really_?"

Really.

The dragon's back was suddenly alight with energy, and with a terrible shriek it launched off the atelier, flames at its back propelling it forward in some mockery of flight. It soared clean over them and crashed in an explosion of water spray in front of them, dragging its claws along the drenched ground to come to a stop. It twisted its long neck around to face them again, opening its jaws. Fire was building in the back of its skull, igniting its jaws and eye sockets with a dangerous red.

Then the jaws opened wide, and it unleashed a bust of flame. Rue and Mint jumped out of the way, ending up on opposite sides of the creature, the fire impacting the spot around where they had been standing, guttering against the empty air for a brief moment before the water rushed in to field the void. It sniffed at the air, exhaled a burst of steam, and slowly turned to face Mint.

What luck.

She took a step back, and the bone dragon stepped forward. It covered a lot more ground in one movement than she did. But now that she saw it, she realized that it wasn't aiming for her, not quite; its head was tilted to the side and down, black sockets of its eyes focused on the tiara. No doubt the dragon wanted it back.

At least that proved it was something worth taking.

She continued to backpedal as the dragon bore down on her, looming ever closer, the flames in its mouth burning with increasing intensity as the magic regenerated. She tried to aim for it, tried to anticipate, brought he rings up in front of her and charged them with energy, looked for the perfect moment–

There was a sound, metal on stone, and the dragon whipped around. Behind it, Rue was pulling away, shaking his arm and hissing in pain, the blade of the gladius still vibrating from the impact.

"Didn't work," he growled.

Except, for Mint, it had.

She pulled the rings sharply apart again, and the water beneath the dragon suddenly swelled and erupted upward in a tight geyser that struck it just beneath the chin and smashed into the core of fire energy in its throat. The dragon shrilled and reared back, plumes of steam spiraling up out of its eyes, and Mint ducked beneath it and back over to Rue.

"Now!" she yelled.

He shoved the sword away. "On it."

Together, they charged for the opening. They were quick about it, only taking as long as they strictly needed to recover before they took off again. Unfortunately, the dragon was faster.

It lunged, the fire at its back still roaring strong, and its foreclaws hit Mint, smashing her into the ground with such force she blacked out for a split second. It was too long; when she came to she realized immediately her hold on the bubble shields was gone and she had just enough time to suck in half a breath of air before the water crashed down over her and the dragon now had her pinned below the surface, one claw keeping her upper body pressed to the ground while the other slashed at her waist.

She kept her eyes shut tight, tried not to struggle. Don't waste air, she didn't have enough to waste and she didn't have a good enough plan that she could risk. Just had to wait, just had to hope–

The dragon's weight lifted off of her. Instantly she kicked off and shot back to the surface of the water, breaking through and taking in a deep gulp of air. She thrashed in the water, desperate to swim to the exit but making no headway. She had to calm down, but her heart was hammering too fast and her head felt kind of fuzzy and suddenly something grabbed her arm and she tried striking at it with ring and she hit something that had more give than the dragon did and suddenly she was yanked to her feet and found herself staring into dark hazel eyes.

"That really hurt," Rue said.

"I was drowning," she growled.

He released his grip on her – only one arm, she noticed, he had the one she had struck tucked up against his chest – and backed away from her, giving her room to breathe. "Sorry," he said quickly. "We have to leave. Now."

Instinctively her hand flew to her side, and she realized there was an empty space where previously there had not been. "The tiara!" she shouted. "It got the tiara!"

She turned, but Rue caught her arm before she had managed to move. She whirled, shooting him a venomous glance, but his expression was solid and stern and something about it made her take pause. "We are not fighting that thing," he said flatly. "We can't touch it."

"_You_ can't touch it," she said, yanking her hand from his grip. She turned to face it, raised her rings, and tried to think of the ideal spell. The water had only worked for a moment; now that she could see it again, its back thrusters were burning bright and the flames in its mouth had returned, hot as ever.

It was also not looking at her.

Its attention was back toward the atelier. Two figures were making their way across the room; Duke was shrouded in darkness, she could only see the promise of his shadow, but Belle was swathed in light and hurling small bursts of magic at the creature. It whirled to face them, the bursts of magic striking it directly in the face. It swiped its claw over its head as though it were wiping away water and hurled itself at the treasure hunters.

Mint let her hands drop.

"I think I see your point," she said.

"Let them deal with it," Rue said.

She gritted her teeth. "The tiara–"

"We'll worry about it later," he said briskly. "We have the cube. And the dragon hasn't noticed that we have the cube, and I say we don't let that go to waste. _Come on._"

She knew he was right. She hated it – hated to admit defeat – but she was sore and tired and rapidly running out of steam, and looking over Rue – nursing his arm, breathing hard, his whole frame shivering – she realized that even if his weapon wasn't useless against the dragon, he really couldn't keep going. Maybe later – once they were rested, once they'd had a chance to prepare themselves – they could dive back into the mines and deal with this thing properly, win back the tiara. But not now.

She shot one more glance to the dragon and saw it gleefully hurl Duke through the air. Another of Belle's attacks lit up the room and struck the dragon's side, but it shrugged off the magic as easily as it had the first time and crashed through the water, unleashing a gout of flames in her direction.

Maybe they didn't have to fight, though. Maybe she could sneak up while it was preoccupied, snag the tiara, get out before it noticed...

An errant swipe of its tail cracked into the pillar it had been standing on and reduced half of it to dust, and she decided arguing would accomplish nothing. She turned and nodded, and Rue dove, swimming the rest of the way to the tunnel. Not a second later Mint followed his lead.

They made it to the tunnel, dragged themselves out of the water. Haste was of the essence – the sounds of battle raging behind them spurred them forward – but they still moved with utmost care. Not exactly fast going, but when the alternative was falling back into the water pit and being eaten by a dragon statue, it was far preferable.

Eventually, the sounds of conflict became quieter, and then stopped following them altogether. Eventually, they reached the apex of the tunnel. Mint had to brace herself, leaning forward on her knees, gasping for air. Rue staggered forward a few more paces before giving up, leaning against the tunnel wall.

They both waited, panting and gasping, dripping wet, but after a few minutes Rue shoved himself forward, staggering down the tunnel. Mint looked up, almost called after him, failed to find the energy to form words, waited again. She could feel herself relaxing a little more, and as she did the pain was starting to come on, renewed and sharp. If she kept moving she would be able to ignore it until they got back to town. At least until they were out of the tunnels.

She swallowed her next breath, forced herself upright, and followed.


	9. Lakeside

**Nine || Lakeside  
**

* * *

Elroy had designed his labyrinth to keep people out, not trap them inside, so fortunately once they began making their way backward they suffered no further interruptions; the path was singular and straight, and though there was something the sounds of scuttling and movement and sometimes the shadow of a long, thin leg melting into the darkness, the lantern light was enough to keep the monsters from getting too curious.

After what felt like a very long time, they found the fissure in the wall that led them back into the cobalt mines, and stepped out of the pale blue illumination of the atelier tunnels into the warm, inviting light of the lantern path Mint had ignited. From there it was only a few more minutes until they could see the dazzling light of day, and with a final push they crossed the threshold, out of the stifling mines and into the open clearing. They were struck immediately by fresh air, the scent of damp earth and crushed leaves, the heat of the sun burning a hole in the sky. Rue felt a little throbbing pain start up just behind his eyes, and stumbled off toward the tree line. He ducked into the shade, leaned against the first tree he came across, and closed his eyes.

He was relieved they had escaped, and escaped with so little bloodshed; battered and bruised as he was, there had been no major damage. Plus, they had come away with something physical, something that seemed of at least passing importance, and the tiara– well, they could worry about that later. Altogether it was a successful experience, if more painful than he would have liked.

But he still wasn't happy about it. Atelier guardians, he had seen before. It was a stretch to say he was accustomed to seeing fully functional guardians – most had worn out or unwoven many years before, or had been poorly constructed in the first place – but at least it wasn't a complete surprise. The treasure hunters, though... he had not expected them.

How had they gotten in? And when? Judging by when the seal had broken, or when he suspected it had happened, they had gotten into the atelier no more than twenty minutes before he and Mint had, but there was no indication that anybody had gone into the mines ahead of them. Nor any indication of why. They had only found Cadomon's notes the prior day, and only been told of their contents that morning.

Maybe it was coincidence. But what a remarkable coincidence that would be.

"Mint," he said finally, looking up and squinting through the light. He found her splayed out on the grass not far, lying on her back, one arm draped over her eyes. He wrenched himself from the tree and took a couple of tentative steps toward her. "Mint."

She did not look at him, but she did respond; "Artema."

"What do you know about that woman?"

Mint's immediate response was an irate, guttural grunt. "Just a treasure hunter," she said. "We ran across each other about a year ago, chasing the same treasure. It didn't go well for her." Mint laughed lightly. "Guess she's still holding a grudge."

"And the man that was with her?"

"Dunno. She didn't have any flunkeys when I ran into her. Must've picked him up somewhere."

"Do you suppose... do you suppose they'll follow us?"

Mint did not respond immediately. She mulled over the question, considered the implication, and then forced herself to sit upright. She gave Rue a long sideways glance, then looked over to the mouth of the cave.

"They might," she said, and with a grunt she forced herself upright, staggering slightly on her feet. "We'd better get back to town."

And back they went, a little faster returning than they had been going. There was no sign of any pursuit, but both of them seemed to have decided there was no point taking any chances, and did not slow down until they were past the town gates and heading toward Klaus' house. By the time they arrived at his door, it was mid-afternoon.

"You got the thing, right?" Mint asked.

Rue shifted the rucksack around, opened it, and tilted it, draining some of the water still clinging inside. It would need to be properly aired out or it would probably begin to mildew, pleasant thoughts. Once that was done, he reached in and drew out the little golden box.

"Right here."

"Klaus better have some good news about this thing."

Rue agreed.

He abandoned the rucksack outside the house, flipping it inside-out as best he could and loosely disposing of the damp and ruined remains of the food Mira had packed them. Leaving the pack out to dry, Rue kept the cube in hand and knocked on the door.

A muffled voice – female, adult, Mira – called from the other side; "It's open!"

He pushed open the door and stepped into the house. Mira was busying herself arranging some of the goods in the front room, but when she heard the door open she spun to take a look, and visibly exhaled in relief. "Ah, you're back! I'm glad to see you, those mines are– oh!" She bristled, alarmed, and practically sprang across the room to them. "What happened?"

She was reaching out to check Rue's injuries, but he raised his arm and gently batted her hand away. "It's all right," he said. "We just had some trouble at the atelier."

"Way to undersell it," Mint growled.

Mira, seeing as her immediate help was unwanted, pulled away. "I assume you have more of a story than that," she said.

Mint snorted. "Just a bit."

"You aren't too badly hurt?" she asked, frowning slightly. "Although I suppose if you got back here from all the way out in the mines, it can't have been too bad. Have a seat, I'll get you both some ice."

She disappeared into the next room and busied herself with just that. In the midst of her preparation, there was another sound from deeper in the house, uneven footfalls, and Klaus appeared in the door frame, looking entirely too pleased.

"I thought I heard something up here," he said. "I was hoping you'd be back soon, I–"

"Out of the way, please," Mira called, and he shoved himself to the side as she bustled past, clutching in her hands a pair of cloths, both of them tied off and laden with a few ice cubes. She handed one to each of them and backed off again, her gaze flicking between the two.

"I can get more if you need it," she said.

"Ice?" Klaus asked, but Mira was already disappearing into the kitchen. He turned his attention to Rue and Mint as they began nursing their wounds, and seemed then to actually see how bedraggled and rough they looked. "My god, what happened down there? Are you all right?"

"It's mostly superficial," Rue said.

"We almost got killed," Mint added.

Klaus made his way to a nearby chair, cleared off some of the accrued junk, and sat himself down. "Tell me what happened," he said.

They did. Rue let Mint tell most of the story – she seemed eager, so why interrupt? – and Klaus let them go on mostly uninterrupted. Fortunately, most of the narrative was centered around the events at the atelier, with Mint only providing some comparatively minor grievances about the tunnels.

"Minding my own business and suddenly I'm in the middle of a magical maze! You wound up there too, right?"

"Different path," Rue said. "but yeah."

He offered no additional details about how he'd had to make his own source of light after Mint had inadvertently stolen the lantern.

She talked about the atelier, about the room with the dolls, about the attack, about how she was almost crushed by an angry skeletal dragon, about how the two of them only got away because their pursuers had been too busy killing each other to get around to killing them.

"And all we got out of the deal," she said, snapping the cube out of Rue's hand and dramatically slamming it on the table, "was a stupid box!"

Klaus was silent for a few seconds, giving her a chance to continue, but Mint was done. She sat back in her chair and folded her arms, doing her level best to look as annoyed as possible. Klaus' gaze slowly turned to Rue, and Rue simply shook his head. Nothing to add.

"Well, you certainly had an adventure," Klaus said. He reached over the table and picked up the cube, grunting with unexpected effort when he realized how heavy it actually was. He pulled it over to himself and looked at it for a moment, flipping it across all sides, studying the contours. "But I think I have something that can cheer you up."

Mint gave him a withering glare. "Unless you found a Relic while we were gone, there isn't much that'll make me happy."

Klaus merely smiled.

"You're kidding!" Mint was almost indignant. "Where?"

"Right here," he said. "Right on the island."

"This better not be a joke," Mint snarled.

Klaus ignored her. "Not far from town, either." Klaus wrenched himself out of his seat and grabbed his cane. "I can show you right now, if you like." His eyes trained on the icy cloth in Mint's hand. "Of course, if you'd rather rest and recover–"

"Like hell." She nearly threw herself out of her chair. "How far is not far?"

"Perhaps a half-hour's walk." He started to rise as well, reaching for his cane. "According to Elroy, anyway."

Rue had been carefully avoiding getting excited. He looked between the two of them and leaned into the couch, pressing the ice pack against his bruised arm. "How did you find this?" he asked levelly.

"In Elroy's notes," Klaus explained. "Poor Cadomon died before he could translate most of them. Now, I _do_ want to clarify that, from what I've read, this was mostly speculation on Elroy's part."

Mint's shoulders fell. "So you're not sure."

"Until we see it for ourselves, we can never be sure," Klaus said. "But even if it's not right where Elroy thought it was, I'm certain it's on the island. I've only gone through perhaps a third of Elroy's papers – the ones Cadomon was holding on to, that is – but by the dates it seems he had this theory relatively early into his move to Carona. The fact that he went on to build an atelier and take on two apprentices here means that he was certain the Relic was a stone's throw away. He wanted to be near it."

"Where exactly did he think it was?" Rue asked. Mint was stepping away from the table, and he rose, preparing to follow.

"There's a lake not too far from here," Klaus explained. "We've directed the town's fresh water supply from there– the fountain's fed by the lake, too." His brow furrowed. "It's a bit difficult to explain, exactly, but to be honest I'm not entirely surprised."

"You don't need to explain it if we're going there," Mint said.

"You're sure you're up for another walk?" Klaus asked.

"I am now."

He looked over to Rue. Rue managed a faint smile.

"Let's have a look," he said.

. .

The lake was, as Klaus had said, located not too far from the town, and fortunately in a direction that took them nowhere near the old mines or anything that was still inside of them. The path to the lake wound down, past the battered ruins of Cadomon's laboratory. Eventually the ground sloped upward again, forming a little hill, where the trees became sparser and the dirt more densely packed.

"I have to admit," Klaus said, "I'm not entirely surprised. When I first came to Carona this site was one of the first ones that interested me."

"But you didn't find anything?" Rue asked.

"As far as I could tell, there was nothing to be found," Klaus said. "This area is very well documented, actually. I looked at everything I could about it, I visited personally, but there's really no indication that there's anything... I was going to say 'out of the ordinary' but it's obvious there's something out of the ordinary, I'm sorry. I mean, anything particularly _magical_ about this location."

He crested the hill, and a few seconds later Rue and Mint followed. Klaus stopped at the top of the hill and looked over his shoulder, waiting for them to catch up. Once they fell in alongside him, he gestured ahead of them.

The hill sloped downward again on this side, but it was a uniform depression, forming a relatively shallow bowl at the top of the hill. The bowl was dominated by a lake, flaring white and gold in the sunlight, its surface perfectly smooth. And in the middle of that lake was something very much unlike water; a slab of stone, edged by shallow walls. From his angle, Rue couldn't see what was inside, but there had to be _something_ there.

The stone structure stood alone in the middle of the middle of the lake, blatantly out of place but not entirely isolated. The opposite side of the platform was connected to a long length of slightly elevated stone, a wide platform that skimmed over the lake surface and attached the platform to the opposite shore, to the far edge of the bowl. It merged into a broad set of stairs and crossed up to the crest of the hill, where it disappeared into the heavy shadows of crumbling, dilapidated buildings.

"I would like to welcome you," Klaus said, "to Old Carona."

It spread all the way across the opposite side of the lake's bowl, the ragged silhouette of decaying civilization. They were too far to make out the details, but it was clear that certain buildings had held more importance than others; most of them were fairly low to the ground and obviously prone to decay, but some others – most notably the impressive spires of a true cathedral – rose prominently over the rest, somehow standing proud against the ardors of time. He could almost see how it must have looked back then, before it had collapsed, the skyline dominated by–

By–

He winced and pressed his fingers against his forehead, grinding his teeth. The image was just on the edge of memory, flitting in and out of his mind's eye just long enough to tease him with the thought before receding again. He didn't know what it was or how it even related to what stood across the lake, but there was _something_ that he knew should have been there and yet there it _wasn't_.

A growl of frustration rose in his throat, but he swallowed it, shook it off, looked up again and focused on what was immediately in front of him. Klaus was leading the way down the bank, Mint not far behind, and Rue dragged himself out of his spot to follow.

"What do you mean, _Old_ Carona?" Mint asked.

"Just what it sounds like," Klaus answered. "This is the Carona that stood in the days of Elroy– before Elroy, in fact. Judging by the architecture and the structure of the old magic, the general speculation is that Old Carona is over a thousand years old. It was likely destroyed around Elroy's time." He frowned to himself, rubbed his chin. "It's hard to be sure, though. Whatever happened was... cataclysmic. Destroyed most of what was in the town. The few documents that were recovered weren't exactly dated, but the few found use the phrase 'baptism of fire'."

Mint chuckled. "And this has _nothing_ to do with a volcano sitting in their backyard, huh?"

"The Raging Mountain has been silent for thousands of years," Klaus said. "Nothing to do with that." Mint's amusement evaporated almost immediately. "They make it sound like there was some manner of divine judgment. Personally, I think it was a dragon."

He said 'dragon' so cavalierly that it was several seconds before Rue suddenly spoke up; "Wait, sorry, _dragon_?"

"Oh, yes, dragon." Klaus pointed over the horizon. They couldn't see it from where they were – the rim of the bowl blocked the horizon – but the hazy image of the Raging Mountain stood out in that direction. "There's an old story that the dragon once took great offense to the actions a mortal conqueror and burned him and his lands to ashes. There's a bit of speculation that perhaps that's what became of Old Carona."

He turned his attention back to Rue and Mint.

"That's not really the point of this excursion," he added.

"Right, sorry," Mint said, rubbing her face. "Just a little concerned what with hearing about the giant fire-breathing lizard that once sacked a town."

"Maybe," Klaus added mildly. "Anyway, the point is, I suspected this of once perhaps being under the auspices of an Aeon. Nobody had ever found indication of such, but I wanted to have a look for my own curiosity. I didn't find anything at the time, but I'm not well-versed in the field of magic. Elroy, I'm sure, would have known better than I what to look for."

"So, what, it's just... down there? We can swim over and get it?" She tensed visibly. "Did we tool around that damned mine for nothing?"

"Quite the contrary," Klaus said. "Elroy suspected the Relic of being here, but, well, nobody had picked it up for five hundred years by the time he arrived, and nobody's picked it up since then."

"Sealed," Rue said.

Klaus nodded. "So Elroy believed."

"Did Elroy happen to believe in any keys?" Mint asked.

"I'm not sure yet," Klaus said. "But given all the trouble he went to settling here, I'm sure he had good reason to think he would be able to unlock the seal." He looked between Rue and Mint again. "You said the only things you found were the cube and the tiara?"

"We didn't really get to look around upstairs," Rue said. "Although I'd think if Belle and Duke had found anything else they wouldn't have left it behind just to fight us."

"Actually, that fight did stink of desperation," Mint said. "They must've come up mostly empty-handed, too."

Klaus hummed to himself and closed his eyes, deep in consideration. "Then there's a good chance one of these items might actually be Elroy's attempts at fashioning a key," he said. "Or else directly related to them."

"Better not have been those dolls," Mint grumbled. "I'm not going all the way back down there just to haul one of those out. Things were _creepy_."

"We'll address that if we need to," Klaus said. "In the interim, I'd like to have a better look at that cube. Perhaps he makes mention of it further into his papers." He looked at Mint. "You said you felt something inside?"

"Some kind of magic, yeah. It's... from what I can tell, there's some kind of _something_ inside there, and the box is acting like a dampener so it stays inside."

Klaus grinned. "That's promising," he said. "I think now is as good a time as any to follow up on that." He turned and began walking back up the hill. "I'm going to head back and see what I can make of all this. If you'd like to stay, of course–"

"No," Mint said flatly. "I don't know what Belle and Duke are doing, but if they followed us down to Elroy's atelier they can follow us out here. I'm not letting you wander through the woods alone."

"Why thank you, Mint."

She waved his words away. "I mean, I can't read any of the crazy going on in that paper," she said. "You get kacked and where will be?"

Klaus laughed; genuinely, loudly. "I appreciate your pragmatism," he said. "At least I know you won't have a change of heart!"

"Yeah, yeah." She fell in step behind them, but after a few paces turned.

Rue was still standing on the slope of the hill, looking out over the lake to Old Carona. It was right there, right on the edge of his mind, if he could just–

"You coming?" she called.

He was silent for a few seconds, then blinked, shook his head, turned around. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, sorry."

Mint gave him a look, grudgingly accepting his apology, then turned and resumed heading over the hills. Rue followed, but couldn't help casting a glance back over his shoulder. The skyline was badly damaged, but he could not shake the feeling that he had seen it before.


	10. Mel

**Ten || Mel  
**

* * *

Afternoon burned on and gradually faded toward evening, and still Klaus had not come out of his work room.

Mint and Rue had set up a bit of a vigil in the Adler's guest room – enforced by Mira, who had re-supplied her aid kit while they were gone and put together a small meal to make up for the damage to the food she had sent them with – but after a couple of hours and a dose of a mild painkiller Mint was feeling restless.

"It's just a box," Mint grumbled. "It's got all of six sides. How hard can it be to open it?"

Although she already knew that the answer was 'pretty hard'. The way the magic was all tangled up inside, dampened and sealed by the actual structure of the box, it was clear it was not meant to be opened freely. Granted, she'd never really seen anything quite like it before – the magic dampening devices she was accustomed to were for penal purposes, cuffs or collars or, once, a specially constructed cell – but she could hazard a guess as to the theory behind it.

That didn't help her current impatience, though. She might have been a little more willing to wait if she had not been expressly told that a there might be a Relic sitting under a rock not two miles outside of town.

Rue was sitting at the small desk in the room, chair turned partially so he could face Mint but still lean on the top of the desk. He had been watching her pace for a few minutes, but lost interest and instead taken to staring at some point of space between himself and her, plainly lost in thought. When she spoke up, though – under the assumption that he was too zoned out to pay any attention – his gaze re-focused and he looked up to her.

"You don't really want me to answer that," he said.

"T'ch, no, I know." She stopped moving. "You can't tell me you aren't itching to know what's inside that thing, right? You want the Relic, too."

He thought about that for a few seconds. "No," he said. "Guess I can't. But you're familiar with magician artifacts, right? They almost always have some bizarre trick to them."

Mint sighed. "Right, right," she grumbled. She yanked a nearby chair over to her and flopped into it, arms crossed over her chest, frowning. She let herself sit in silence for several seconds before she couldn't stand it anymore. "So what're your plans for the Relic?"

He jolted slightly, blinked, stared at her. "Sorry?"

"The Relic. The thing that we're looking for? The thing you told me wanted first dibs on?" She readjusted herself in the chair, leaning forward. "All that power and you only want to use it once? I don't buy it."

"Why not?"

"Seems like a waste," she said. "Go through all this trouble for such a powerful artifact and you just use it once and toss it aside? Doesn't make any sense to me."

"What about you?" he asked. "What do you want out of this?"

She grinned. "The only thing you _should_ do with something that powerful." She shifted in her seat again, nonchalant slouch this time, playing up the effect. She rested her head on her hand, drummed her free fingers against the arm of the chair. "I'm gonna rule the world."

She had seen a lot of reactions to that; mocking laughter, smirks, incredulity, moral demands– those were the worst. _What gives you the right?_, _You think you could do better?,_ _No man should have that power_, so on.

Rue did none of those things. He looked at her, his expression unreadable, then kind of tilted his head to the side. He regarded her in silence for a few seconds, and some of her bravado began to siphon away. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, and that left her confused and frustrated; she didn't know whether to play up her confidence to an impressed audience or focus her indignation or explain to him the injustices that had been committed against her. She was on the verge of demanding a response when he spoke up and gave her one.

"Why would you want to do that?"

She blinked. "Why would I what?"

"Take over the world," he said.

"Wh– why _wouldn't_ you?" she asked. "You could do anything! _Get_ anything. Cast your enemies before you and watch them suffer. Make them pay for their injustices. Shape the world in your image! Why–"

Mint was cut off by a knock on the edge of the door. She and Rue looked up to see Mira standing there, a covered plate in her hand.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said, although she looked visibly amused. "But my husband seems to be on one of his little _kicks_ and I doubt he'll be coming up for dinner." She held up the plate. "Could I ask you to take this down to him? It'll give you an excuse to see how he's doing."

"Oh, yes, of course," Rue said. He stood up from the chair and accepted the dinner plate from Mira. Mint rose from where she was sitting and made to follow him as he headed toward the basement. Before she had gone too far, however, Mira touched her shoulder to make her stop.

"Is that what you're aiming for?" she asked, a bit too mildly. "World domination? That's quite an ambition."

"That a problem?"

"Could be," Mira said, "but what ruler isn't a gamble? It might be interesting, at any rate. Most power is determined by birth and royal favor; bloodlines are fated to rule nations, and the only way to change that is to end the line. Not to say the kings and queens haven't been up to the task, of course, but things might be a little different if they had to earn the right to be in charge, if they had to prove their worth to everybody. Don't you think?"

She pulled her hand away from Mint.

"Best check on my husband," she said, and walked out the room.

Mint felt a little shiver run through her. That talk had seemed strangely pointed.

_Check on the box_, she told herself, and she hurried downstairs to do so.

Rue was already there, setting the plate down on an empty spot on Klaus' desk, although it was clear he'd had a hard time finding one. Papers were fanned all the way across the desk, notes scribbled on separate sheets, sometimes connected by lines or crossed out entirely. The cube, utterly immaculate, stood just about center of the desk. She had a perfect view of all this from where she stood on the stairs, as Klaus was actually standing a few feet away, chin against his hand, biting his lip, his posture rigid.

"What's up?" Mint asked.

"I don't know," Klaus said. "I've skimmed all the notes, I've looked for diagrams. It's been mentioned once or twice, but Elroy left no indications of how to open it and I haven't found _anything_ on the box to help." He had plainly been sitting in that chair for too long; when he moved back toward the box, he did so with a visible limp, and moved deliberately and stiffly. He picked up the box and held it up to the light. "It's just a cube," he said. "I thought maybe it was a puzzle-box, sometimes magicians like to tuck things away in those, but there aren't any latches or sliding bits or depressions."

"I think you should eat, doctor," Rue said quietly. "You've been down here a while."

He exhaled. "Yes, of course. I don't think I'm making much headway with this."

Mint slammed her fist against the stair railing. "No way!" she said. "There's gotta be something to it."

"I'm sure there is," Klaus said, "but I might not be equipped to find it." He tossed the cube in the air, allowing it to spin a few times before it returned to him. "Elroy was a very powerful magician. He might have woven a seal around the box. If that's the case, there's little more that I can do."

"I didn't sense any seals," Mint said.

"Not through the dampeners," Rue added. He held out his hand, and Klaus handed him the cube. He turned it a few times in the light, not quite focusing on it. "They might be masking it. Or else Elroy did some very subtle spell-weaving." He placed it back on the desk. "I can't feel anything like that, though."

"Well," Klaus muttered. "That's frustrating."

Mint leaned over the railing, arms dangling down the side, and looked at him plaintively. "That's not _it_," she said.

"_If_ that's the case," Klaus said, "then I'm afraid that is it. I don't know the first thing about spellwork, and if you can't detect anything then I imagine you wouldn't find a way to undo it."

"I could just punch it," she offered brightly. Then she actually thought about the possibility and winced. "Wait, no, I'd probably break my hand."

"Isn't there anybody in town who knows spellcraft?" Rue asked. "Of any kind? Any opinion we could get..."

"A few," Klaus said, "but very rudimentary." He slid back into his chair and went back to staring at the cube. Rue shoved his dinner plate over to Klaus, and after a few seconds Klaus finally reached over and accepted it. "Thank you."

Then he froze, turning somewhat pale, and exhaled through his teeth.

"Actually," he began slowly. "There... there might possibly be somebody who may be able to tell us something."

"Wow," Mint said. "That wasn't frustratingly vague at all."

"I'm sorry," Klaus said. "It's just... I'd rather not have to deal with her if I can avoid it."

"Her?" Rue asked. "Who is she?"

"Queen bitch?" Mint inquired.

"No, it's not like that, she's a perfectly nice person, just..." Klaus rubbed his forehead. "It's hard to explain. She's... _eccentric_."

"_Who_?" Rue repeated, and Mint took a little satisfaction to hear a strained edge in his voice.

Klaus picked up a pen and pointed to the map of the island on his wall. He traced a thin line from the entrance of town down a ways, to a point somewhere in the middle of the forest. It was already circled. "She's a witch," Klaus explained. "Very proficient, quite powerful. She never really comes to town herself– not misanthropic, I should say, she's very popular with the children. But she's..."

He stalled, searching for the word, but eventually gave up.

"She's _really weird._"

Mint perked up, brow furrowed. "Weird?" she asked. "You do all this... this _circumlocution_ and all you have to say is _weird_?"

Klaus gave her a look. "Compared to _circumlocution_, I guess it is rather crass. But it's true."

Rue reached over and rested his hand on the cube, pulling it closer to himself again. "Please, Doctor Adler," he said calmly. "If you really think she can help..."

Klaus sighed. "All right," he said finally. "I can't be certain about this, but it might be worth getting her opinion." He pointed to a section of the map. "The path through the forest breaks off here," he explained. "There's a little footpath off to the right. It'll curve you down this way and eventually merge into a proper path to her atelier. If you happen to get lost on the way... her atelier is very hard to miss."

"She's got her own atelier?" Mint asked. "That's promising."

"Promising," Klaus repeated. "That is... that is certainly a word."

. .

Mel's atelier was not far from town, and there were still a few hours of daylight left, so Mint and Rue set out almost immediately, with Mint claiming rights to carry the cube. She hadn't had much of an opportunity to look at it herself, and figured that maybe if she had another go she could find something of interest, something Klaus had missed, something woven into the magic. Unfortunately, for all the time they were walking, she was just as stumped as he had been; the cube was identical on all sides, possessed no apparent latches or significant indents, and as far as she could tell there was no other spell twining into the magic.

_Frustrating_.

When she aired her grievances, Rue simply said, "Look, we're almost there. We'll be able to get another opinion.'

"That's not the point," Mint growled.

"The _point_ is that we figure out if whatever's in the box is supposed to help us get to a Relic," Rue said. "So yes, that is the point."

"It's not _my_ point."

Around that point, he gave up.

They had already found the dingy, insufficient footpath leading off the trail, and up ahead the forest broadened out again and the trail became clearer. The ground solidified into densely packed dirt, leading the way up a hill.

"We must be getting closer," Rue said.

"Thanks for that," Mint said. "Any other stunning revelations you'd like to share?"

"You're snippier than usual."

She held up the cube. "I have been intellectually conquered," she said, "by a tiny box. I'm not real happy."

"Fair."

"I hope this Mel knows what's up," Mint added. Then, after a few seconds; "I'm gonna kill something if it turns out this thing is actually empty."

Rue made a noise that implied he was ready to speak, but stopped before it actually turned into words, clenched his fist, and gave up. Mint felt a strange sense of satisfaction in that, although she wasn't sure what the response had meant. Out of things to say to her? Not relishing the thought, himself? Maybe she had hit a nerve and he actually was having the exact same, terrible contemplations.

Before she could feel particularly good about it, though, she realized something.

"Hey," she said. "The grass is–"

"What?" He looked down and almost tripped. He caught himself before he did and came to a stop, staring at the ground. "Woah, what?"

The grass that edged the footpath was green. Bright green. Impossibly bright, saturated, candy green, and further ahead, up the hill, it seemed to fade out, turning pale, frosty pink.

Not just the grass, either. The pathway beneath them was starting to lighten up, and the brown dirt was becoming dusted with a sugary, pale blue. The trees were suffering the same fate as the grass; their greens turned almost aggressively vibrant before leeching out to pink, their trunks softening, smoothing, and fading to pastel purple.

"You're seeing this, right?" Mint asked.

"The color," Rue said. He blinked, shook it off, and tried again. "You mean the– the changing color?"

"That'd be _this_," Mint said.

The two exchanged a glance. They, at least, still looked drab as ever.

"It's some kind of... enchantment?" Mint guessed. "Everything's so..."

Rue suddenly broke away, dashing to the top of the hill and coming to a stop. Mint followed close behind, sliding into place next to him. Both of them stared down ahead as the hill sloped again, leveling off after a shallow decline. The ground stretched out before them, all pale pastels. There was still evidence of the pink grass and blue dirt and pink-and-purple trees sprouting here and there, but now they were seeing much less natural constructions: golden, blocky star-shapes dug into the dirt, mint-green hearts, geometric shapes of all bright and happy colors strewn whimsically across the ground between massive and vibrantly colored toadstools.

"Klaus did say the atelier was... hard to miss," Rue mumbled.

Mint's reaction was a little more blunt. "What the hell."

In the middle of the field – if it could be called that – stood a circular house, its colors just a little darker than those around it, although they faded to pallor the further up the structure they went. Green walls, pink roof, twin blue mushrooms twining off the top.

Looking at the whole tableau was making Mint's eyes hurt.

"No, seriously," she repeated. "What the _hell_ am I looking at?"

"That has to be it," Rue said. "We should... ah... we should go see if anybody's home, or..."

"Well," Mint said, "this certainly explains why Klaus didn't want anything to do with this."

"I... yes." He steeled himself and stepped forward. "C'mon."

_Brave man_, Mint thought wryly. She gave him a few seconds head start while she continued to scan the environment from the crest of the hill. Not that it gave her a particularly impressive vantage point, but it all seemed too... _cloying_. There had to be something more to this, a trap of some kind, an illusion, or...

...or maybe Mel just had terrible design aesthetics.

She exhaled and followed.

The nearer they came to the house, the more an assault on the senses it proved to be. There were birds there, or creatures that resembled birds– pudgy pink things with insufficient, tiny wings and over-sized beaks and large, simpering eyes that trilled out music instead of birdsong. Some of the mushrooms were alive, and popped up on stubby little legs to run out of their path. Imp-like creatures were hiding up in the boughs of the candyfloss trees – well, she assumed they were imp-like, it was hard to make much sense of them with their purple bodies managed to blend flawlessly into the shadows of trees. There was a scent in the air, too, perfumes and sugars and fruits, like somebody was baking an expensive woman's washroom.

"You know," Mint began, "I've done a lot of traveling."

"I imagine so," Rue said.

"And I've seen a lot of things."

"I think I know where you're going with this."

Before Mint could finish her point, something darkened the pathway. It was not the same light, fluffy colors of everything else, and it took her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the color and actually make sense of the shape. Eventually it coalesced; standing before her was a short, humanoid creature; the top of its head came maybe halfway up her thigh. It was all in earth-tones, its clothes made of leather and cloth, its hair vibrant but dirty red. And, because the scene was clearly not surreal enough, it clasped in its hand a wooden staff that was topped, adorably enough, with a small and slightly misshapen skull.

It looked at them. They stared right back. Mint was starting to find the combination of events progressively more difficult to deal with, and caught herself almost glad Rue; he seemed to be willing to bear the brunt of this nonsense.

"E-excuse me," he started, taking a half-step toward the creature. He knelt down so he was almost eye level with it. "We're, ah, we're here to see Mel."

The creature looking him up and down a few times before speaking up. "Look for Mel?" he repeated. His voice was a lower pitch than Mint had been expecting – still small-sounding, but given the general environment they were in it was a bit of a shock – and it was clear by listening to him that the English words were foreign to his tongue. "What business?"

Rue looked over to Mint and motioned for her. She was perplexed for a few moments, but then realized what he was asking for, and quickly brought the golden cube to bear. She held it out on display for the creature to study.

"We wanted to talk to her about this box," Rue explained. "We think she might be able to help us open it."

The creature's eyes narrowed. "Why need Mel to open box?"

"It's a magic box," Rue continued. "We've been told Mel is a very powerful witch."

"That true," it said, smiling proudly. "Mel very powerful. But maybe not want help."

"What?" Mint interjected. "What d'you mean, not want help?"

"Not. Want. Help," he repeated, stoicly, solidly, almost patronizingly. "Mel good, powerful, but not know you. Also not know box."

Mint's grip tightened. The edges of the cube dug into her skin.

"Listen, you–"

"But Mel can't know us if we don't talk to her," Rue said, quickly cutting Mint off. "Could we meet her? Then she'll know who we are and she can tell us if she'll help with the box."

It looked at him, at the box, at Mint, then back at Rue, and finally nodded. "Fortney tell Mel," it said. "New people, want meet. Follow soon."

He turned and scampered down the path, heading toward the house. Rue and Mint let him go, watching him until he was about halfway there. Slowly, Rue stood back up again, and Mint finally processed what the creature had said.

"His name was _Fortney_?"

Rue raised his hands helplessly. "I guess."

"I don't– you know what?" She shook her head. "Never mind. Let's get this over with."

She took the lead this time. At least she knew Mel was in that house, and knowing that she also knew that the faster they got there the faster they could get out.

The creature – Fortney, apparently – had already disappeared into the house well ahead of them. Mint approached the door, tossed the cube into her left hand, and knocked. Or did something approaching knocking; the door, despite bearing the pale, lacy colors of fine candy, was solid wood, and should have made a solid knocking noise under her knuckles. Instead, it responded by chiming.

She immediately yanked her hand back, staring at the door.

_We're almost out_, she reminded. herself. _We'll be in and we'll talk to Mel and then we'll be gone and I'm not coming back I don't even care what happens._

When there was no response, she tried again, almost tentatively, and sure enough the door answered with another bright, bell-like chime.

Rue approached from behind, staring at the door. She waited for him to make a comment, but he simply shook his head.

Then, from the other side, a voice, almost sing-song: "Come in!"

Mint steeled herself, swallowed, and opened the door.

The interior of the house matched the whimsy of the exterior, although the lighting, thankfully, was not as stark; an overhead lantern provided the main light source in the room, augmented by a few other surprisingly tasteful candles, bathing the room in a warm orange glow that helped cut the intensity of the eye-searing pastels. The house was no less bizarre, though; the furniture was molded from bright bases and puffy cushions, all pale pastel colors. Wildly patterned curtains hung over the large, circular windows, and a yellow-gold rug pointed them directly ahead, through the door and into the next room.

"Don't be shy," the voice said again. "I'm here at the dining table. You've caught me at tea time."

The dining table was stationed directly ahead of them, in what seemed to be the middle of the house. It resembled a fanciful mushroom; a stem for the table leg, attached to the ground, while the table top was green and pocked with broad, yellow spots. Four chairs surrounded the table – all of them similarly mushroom-themed – and sitting in the rightmost chair, just hidden behind the wall when they came in, was an individual who could only be Mel.

She was not quite so candy-colored as her trappings, but she was distressingly close, dressed in a dream white undershirt over was draped a knee-length pink dress. Her heard was vibrantly orange, clearly long but aggressively curled so it bounced and frisked around her head whenever she moved. The whole look was tied together by surprisingly upscale pink heels, and a matching bonnet that bore (of all things) floppy bunny ears. In one hand she held a little tea cup, pale rose and detailed in green; in the other hand, the saucer.

Mint gaped.

The woman watched her for a moment, brow furrowed, and slowly set down her tea set. "Something wrong?" she asked. "Is there something on my face?"

"I– you–" Mint cut herself off and quickly massaged her temples. A whole new headache was forming somewhere in the front of her skull. "I wasn't expecting this."

The woman leaned back in her chair and regarded them both with a little half-smile. "I suppose nobody told you about me, did they?" she asked, her voice strangely slick for all the saccharine trappings around them. "That's fine. People find me... _unusual_."

"You're Mel?"

Rue had to be commended for keeping his voice so neutral. She slid out around Mint and took a few steps forward, giving them both breathing room. When he did, Mel's attention immediately snapped away from Mint to him. She followed his movement, turning her head until it became uncomfortable, then turning herself entirely to lean on the table and face him completely. "_Fancy_ Mel, as some say," she said, and finally broke into a full smile. "That'd be me."

"Fancy," Mint mumbled. "That is... certainly a word."

Mel laughed. "Yes it is," she said. "It's a nice way of saying _weird_." She shrugged. "I don't much mind. It's true." She broke her gaze, looking from Rue and back to Mint. "Recent arrivals? I haven't seen you around before."

"Mostly passing through," Mint said. "We're looking in to something?"

Mel's attention turned from Mint's face to her hand. "And I take it Elroy's box has something to do with it?"

"You recognize this?" Rue asked.

"Sure do." She looked between them again. "I didn't catch your names...?"

"Ah, sorry," Rue said. "Rue Artema. And–"

"Mint." She paused, then added, "Just Mint."

"Hmm." Mel looked between them again, then settled on Mint; rather, the object Mint was holding. She took another sip from her cup and held out her hand. "If I could see that?"

Mint approached – slowly, warily – and when she was just within range held out the cube. Mel plucked it from her hand and brought it to her own face, twisting it around a few times. After she had satisfied whatever she was looking for, she gently placed her cup on the table.

"All right. Rue, Mint– what did you want to know about this?"

"How to use it," Mint said. "We can't make sense of it. Klaus couldn't, either."

"I imagine not," she said. "Elroy was a very tricksy man. He only ever intended for himself to be able to use the cube– I'm not even sure his apprentices were ever in on it."

Rue's stance sagged. "Does that mean you can't open it?"

"Hmm? Oh, no. He was tricky, but also predictable." She spun it between her fingers. "I can take a decent guess about what to do with it right now."

"You can?" Mint cried. "Well, do it!"

Mel looked at her for a moment, then back at the cube, and whistled. Mint assumed it was part of some esoteric ritual, but to her surprise two small creatures flew into the room, bright yellow and bat-like. One of them set down on the table; the other, on the edge of Mel's cup. They were tiny things, fuzzy, with wide eyes and small beaks and webbed wings and little talons, and from a certain perspective Mint had to admit they were almost cute.

Mel placed the cube on the table. "Take this and hide it," she said, and the fluffy little bat-birds leapt up, clasped the cube in their claws, and took off for the back of the house, disappearing almost immediately. Mint watched, curious, until it suddenly hit her what Mel had actually said.

"Wait, what?" she yelped, snapping around to face Mel. "Where are they going with that!"

Mel took a sip from her teat. "To stow it," she said mildly. "It seems clear Elroy did a poor job of it."

"Stow–" Then it clicked, and Mint snapped her teeth together. _"You just stole our cube!_"

"Elroy's cube," Mel corrected. "You stole it from his atelier, after all."

"That doesn't mean you can just steal it back! _That_ guy's been dead for hundreds of years, he isn't gonna miss it!"

But Mel was already ignoring Mint's tirade. Still sitting at her table, placidly drinking tea, she had settled a neutral, half-lidded gaze on Rue. He was leaning around the opposite door, looking in the direction the little bat-creatures had gone, not entirely paying attention to the conversation. He must have heard enough, though; he turned around, giving Mel a plaintive look, and quietly asked, "Why?"

"I know what that cube is for," Mel said. "And so do you two, if you brought it here. Right?"

"There's a Relic under a lake," Mint said. "That thing's supposed to help us get to it."

"Not perfectly right, but close enough."

Mint almost asked why it was only 'close enough', but she settled on the other implication instead. "So– Elroy was right? There _is_ a Relic there?"

"Yes."

Mint's face lit up for a moment, but then immediately her expression soured. "And you just... you just stole our way to get it."

"Also yes."

Rue turned fully to face Mel properly. "Why would you..."

"Listen," Mel said, and her voice had suddenly lost its bounce. "You're familiar with the Aeons, right? You're hunting a Relic, you must be."

"Who isn't?" Mint asked. "Stupid powerful wizards that all died out ages ago. They left behind a bunch of artifacts with all sorts of stupid powerful magic in them."

"Crude, but correct," Mel said. "Then I assume you're also familiar with Valen."

She was met with blank silence. Mint frowned and furrowed her brow, wracking her head for the name, but she had never heard of it before. "Not here."

Likewise, Rue was also thought in thought, staring off somewhere to the corner of the room, muttering the name under his breath. Eventually, he exhaled heavily. "No," he said finally. "Not that I recall."

Mint tilted her head. "Really?" she asked, genuinely surprised. "Maybe I shouldn't be so shocked. They – the rest of the Aeons, that is – struck his name from every document they could. I shouldn't really expect you two to have come across it."

Mint jumped slightly. "They did what? How much of an asshole was he?"

"From my understanding, he was not a pleasant man," Mel said. "But I don't believe most of the Aeons were. Having that much power at your disposal can give one a bit of a superiority complex. Although that's the reason they tried to eliminate him from history."

"A superiority complex?"

"Raw power."

Mint was suddenly very attentive.

Mel shoved the saucer and cup away from herself. "He was, without question, the most powerful Aeon to have ever existed," she said. "By his will alone, he could move mountains and change the orbit of the stars."

"No way," Rue breathed.

Mel shrugged. "Who knows if it's true?" she asked. "What I am certain of is that he was powerful– and very smart. Are you familiar with the method of making a Relic?" When neither of them responded, she carried on. "The basic concept is that the Aeon would taken an object – usually something important to them, a book or a signet ring or some kind of emblem – and tie it to a nexus of magic. Some of them have withered since then, but the most powerful Relics were tied to effectively infinite well-springs. Valen was the one who thought that up. He created the first Relics."

"Relics? Plural?" Mint asked. "Far as I know each Aeon only made one."

"I'm certain there were exceptions, they've just long since been lost. Anyway, Valen was experimenting. He left behind several things that could be considered Relics, but it was all in pursuit of his grand design. He was searching for a way to work back through the binds of magic and find an origin point, somewhere that all magical energy flowed out of. If he could bind a Relic through the magic core, needless to say, the power he could have siphoned would have been limitless– enough to change the fabric of reality."

"_That's_ what's in the lake?"

"A prototype, more likely," Mel said. "Valen died rather young. His aspirations earned the ire of quite a few people. Trying to re-write the universe will do that, I imagine. Either way, the lake altar is his, and whatever it seals is monstrously powerful."

She gave them several seconds to process what had been said. The implications of it – that they were standing within spitting distance of a device that could literally change the world – was a lot to take in.

Then Rue spoke up. "How do you know that? I mean, if they destroyed all evidence of his existence..."

"Not all evidence," Mel said. "But certainly most of it. You've seen the lake altar, I imagine? The ruins on the lake? Old Carona was where Valen was born, and where he returned to conduct most of his research. He ruled these islands a thousand years ago. The Aeons could scrub a lot of their own records, but they couldn't destroy every journal and letter from Carona. Some slipped through."

"This is too cool," Mint said. "The most powerful Relic made by the most powerful Aeon and we're sitting on top of it right now?" She grinned, manic energy flooding through her. "Imagine what you could do!"

"Exactly," Mel said. "Which is why I'm not giving you the box."

Immediately, Mint deflated. "Oh. Right. That."

"But–" Rue objected, but Mel held up her hand.

"I'm not conducting story-time for my own good," she said. "I need you to understand. Whatever is sealed by that altar can't be allowed back into the world. No man should be allowed to wield that kind of power." She stood up from her chair. "I'm sorry. I can't help you."

"But..." Rue's voice trailed off. He sighed and looked away. "No, you're right. That would be... selfish."

"I'm glad you understand," she said. "Although..." Then Mel went quiet, her voice fading to nothing, and she looked between the two of them again, mouth half-open. She seemed prepared to say something, but after a moment she gave up, snapped her jaw shut, looked away. "I'm sorry." She looked out of the room, through one of the windows; the sky had turned rose and gold. "It's getting late. You'd better get moving if you want to be back in town before dark." She paused. "Although if you wanted to stay here, I can–"

"No that's fine," Mint said quickly. "You're right, we should go. C'mon, Artema."

Rue gave one last look at Mel, his whole body rigid, clearly trying to find the words he needed to express. Mint shot him a glance.

"I'm going with or without you," she said. "You can stay here if you like, but I'm getting out of here before I go blind."

"It's not _that_ bad," Mel sniffed.

"Y-yeah, you're right, sorry." With no small amount of reluctant, he turned away from Mel and followed Mint out the door. Mel's gaze continued to bore into them even as they left, and Mint did not feel it leave until the door was shut and they were partway down the path.

"Well," she said brightly. "At least we know what we're dealing with. Although she didn't have to hide the cube. Not like we know what to do with it or anything."

"Mm."

"We're gonna need to get that back."

He made a sound that was almost a laugh, albeit dry and humorless. "After all that, you're still going after the Relic?"

"Hah! Was she trying to dissuade me? She just sealed the deal. We need to get into that altar." She gave him a sidelong glance. "Don't tell me you're just walking away from that. Limitless potential, and you're not gonna touch it because the crazy lady told you so?"

"Not at all."

"That's what I like to hear."


	11. Inhuman

**Eleven || Inhuman  
**

* * *

Back in town, they separated again. Mint wandered off immediately, saying that she needed to do some planning, and so the onus of reporting what had happened fell squarely to Rue.

He did not much relish the thought, but it had to be done, and perhaps Klaus would have an idea for how to approach Mel and get the cube back. At the least he would be pleased to hear that Elroy had been right about the Relic under the lake.

He headed back toward the Adler house and was just about to open the door when he heard a voice; "Rue!"

He pulled his hand back and turned, and was almost immediately thrown back into the wall when Elena crashed into him. He just barely kept his balance and looked down, confounded, to see her gripping the edges of his shirt and looking straight up at him. The rims of her eyes were slightly pink.

"Elena," he said, both acknowledging her and bringing himself to the present. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"You gotta help," she said quickly, tugging lightly at his shirt. "I can't find Terence!"

"Terence?" He didn't know a Terence. Was that a dog or a cat that lived in town? Some kind of animal, surely.

"H-he's one of the Poppul Purrels. He comes to town to shop every couple of days and today is the day he's supposed to be here but it's getting really late and I haven't seen him and–"

"Woah, wait," he said. "What's a Poppul Purrel?"

Elena let go of Rue and took a step back, sniffling.

"They're these– they're the little guys that help Fancy Mel," she said. "S-she sends Terence out to do her grocery shopping and I like to help him out but the market's about to close for the day and it's gonna get dark and I haven't seen him and I think something mighta happened."

It was a bit much to process, but slowly Rue realized what she was talking about. "Okay, okay," he said. "Just calm down. Nobody in town saw him?"

She shook her head.

"All right. Are you sure he's supposed to be here today?"

She nodded. "He comes on the same days, and I always ask him if he's gonna be here again, and he said yes he was."

"Well, maybe we can..." He hesitated; he did not relish the thought. "Maybe we can go to Mel's atelier and ask around. Tomorrow. He probably had something important to do for Mel and just couldn't make it to town."

"But– but what if he's the forest? What if he's hurt? He'll get eaten!"

He wanted to protest, but realized quickly that it might well be true.

"Okay," he said. "Let's check the forest. But, Elena," he said quickly. "Mint and I just came back from Mel's atelier. We didn't see anything along the way that looks like a... a Poppul Purrel." The word felt strange on his tongue, and made him feel patently ridiculous.

"But he can't be far off the path," Elena said. "Come on, we gotta go find him!"

And she took off for the forest gate.

Rue looked over his shoulder, to the door to Klaus' house and reasoned that if he didn't follow Elena, she would be out that door in the darkening forest anyway. He sighed and ran after her, catching up just before she was actually out the gate. "Slow down," he said. "I'm coming."

She looked over her shoulder and smiled. "I'm so glad," she said. "I was really worried, but I knew if I could find your or Mint you'd be able to handle anything out in the forest." Assured that he was following, she started down the path.

"That's..." He faltered slightly, a little surprised. "That's very flattering."

"Dad said you guys went down into the mines and fought bandits and dragons!"

"That's..." He faltered again, then chuckled. "Close enough." He looked to Elena. "When do you usually expect, um, _Terence_ to come into town?"

"The evening," Elena said. "He usually comes in about an hour before the market closes. He has a little cart to carry everything. I help him look through the stock and get some of the bigger things into the cart."

"That's quite nice of you," Rue said. "Do you know why she sends one of her... her helpers to do the shopping, instead of coming in for herself?"

"Mom n' Dad say she used to," Elena said. "Before I was born. She didn't have the Poppul Purrels back then so she came by herself, but after she brought them in she started sending them out to do errands. Marco says they're trying to pay back a debt."

"Marco?"

"One of the boys in town," Elena said, a bit flippantly. "His grandmother is Mrs. Cartha."

"I see." Rue thought about what Elena had been saying. "What kind of debt?"

"Marco says the Poppul Purrels used to live somewhere else, somewhere way different, but they were kicked out of their homes and forced to hide. He says Mel found them and offered to let them live near her home, and taught them how to speak English 'cause they didn't know how. They're still learning, but Terence speaks really good English 'cause he's had to learn to talk to the shopkeepers. You'll like him." At which point she seemed to suddenly remember that were looking for him, and she cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled; "TER-ENCE!"

Her voice was swallowed by the gathering shadows. She bit her lip.

"We're hardly out of town," Rue said. "He's probably further down the path."

She nodded, and they continued, Elena periodically shouting into the undergrowth while Rue scanned the vicinity. Admittedly, his mind was not entirely on the task at hand; he was pretty well convinced that Elena had gotten the day wrong or the visit was stalled. He was still mulling over what Elena had said about the little creatures, the Poppul Purrels. If they were from somewhere else, it certainly explained why they stood out so much against Mel's unique trappings. Although, for all the other moving parts around the atelier – animate mushrooms and puffy birds and those little tree-dwelling imps – they had only seen one Poppul Purrel. Given how at odds they were with the rest of the environment, they should have stood out. Keeping away from strangers?

He froze. There was another sound in the forest, another voice, somewhere off the trail.

Elena was already a few feet ahead, drawing a deep breath to start again. "Te–"

Rue caught her shoulder. She jumped slightly, but cut herself off and wheeled to look at him. He looked out into the forest, then back to her, indicating that she should keep quiet. Then he released her shoulder and – slowly, silently – stepped off the path and into the forest itself. He moved carefully, although judging by the raucous conversation he probably did not need to be particularly stealthy. It grew louder, and he continued to move closer until he saw something up ahead. He gave himself two seconds to make sense of it, then ducked down, pressing up against a tree trunk and behind a patch of brush. He made sure they hadn't seen him, listening for any change in the conversation, but there was none. Then, finally, he twisted, shoving some branches aside, and looked through the rough hole he had opened in the brush.

There were two figures there. The first – tall and lanky, heavily tanned, bare-chested and marked here and there by tattoos – was leaning against a far tree, casually picking dirt out from his fingernails with a dingy dagger, a small bag of coins at his feet. The second – almost a direct opposite of the first, short and rotund – was sitting on the ground a little ways away, leaning up against another tree. He held a rope in his hand, which snaked across the forest floor, passed under a slightly damaged wooden cart, and was tied to the ankle of a small, red-haired creature, lying unmoving on its side.

Rue gritted his teeth.

"I dunno how much we'll make," the short one was saying. "How much y'think he can do? Way too short."

"Y'ever see the stuff them arts-o-cats collect?" said the taller one. "Ain't never seen a midget looks like this before. Somebody'll buy 'im just to say they did."

"I hope he goes to a good home," the other said wistfully. "Oi, Blood, we could sell 'im to a circus or summat! They'd appreciate 'im!"

The other one, Blood, grinned toothily and chuckled deep in his throat. "Oh yeah," he said slowly. "That ain't a bad idea, Smokey. Dress 'im up in some leaves, sell 'im as a savage native. Cannibal dwarf! Hah! We sell 'em a story, too, that'll jack up the price." He kicked the coin-purse sitting at his feet. "His little contribution here'll get 'im a nice place, don't you worry, bro."

"Y'got plans for your half, then?"

Blood laughed. "Eatin'! Find somethin' expensive and stuff it in my face." He sent Smokey a sidelong look. "But I bet you got the same idea."

"Eh-heh. You know me too good, bro."

Rue pulled back slightly, hissing an expletive under his breath, and nearly turned all the way around before he realized Elena was sitting right behind him. He jumped, bit down a yelp, and stared at her, breathing quickly.

"Elena," he whispered. "You should–"

"I hear them," she said. "They– they have Terence, don't they?"

Rue looked over his shoulder, clenched his fist, looked up to her. "Yeah," he said finally. "Yeah, they do."

"You're... you're gonna get him back. Right?"

"Of course."

He turned to face them, reaching for his side, his hand searching for the handle of the sword that, he quickly found it, was not there.

He looked down and realized that he was unarmed; he had left the gladius back in Klaus' house, he hadn't even thought to bring it with him.

Well, nothing else for it.

He looked back to Elena. "Elena," he said quietly, "I'm about to do something strange. Whatever you see, do not make a _sound_. Do you understand?"

She nodded, and pressed her fists against her mouth to prove it. Rue exhaled, nodded, and slipped fully behind the tree. He considered the plan of attack, decided, concentrated, and released.

Blue light engulfed him, and with it the chill of magic, sweeping across and through him, tying itself into different but not unfamiliar patterns. Central core of a body, thinning out to a long finned tail. No arms or legs, just fine, almost feathery fins, echoes of the crest running the length of his spine. Ludicrously simple morphology, designed for effectively swimming through the air.

He twisted around, felt out for energy, let instinct kick in. He didn't know how to command magic threads consciously, but the pollywog did, and it wrapped him in a gentle breeze and bolstered him up until he was hovering a few feet off the ground, gently twisting fins and tail to keep steady.

He twisted in the air, flicked his tail, drifted out toward the brush, and dove down to peer through the hole again. The tall one with the dagger was picking up the change-purse; the short one was starting to stand, rudely yanking the rope behind him. They were setting off soon, then. Just in time.

He moved up, sailed lazily over the bush, and made a slow, roundabout pattern toward Smokey. They didn't notice at first, and he hadn't expected them to; pollywogs were among the most prolific little monsters on the planet, and seeing one out in the middle of the forest was nothing unusual.

Although after a few seconds Smokey did stop his rough yanking of the little Poppul Purrel and turn his attention to Rue. "Ey, bro," he said. "We got company."

"S'just a Pollywog, you yutz," Blood said. "C'mon. Tie 'im up proper and stuff him in the cart. He ain't gonna wake up soon, but if he does I don't wanna deal with it."

"R-right, boss."

He started to walk toward Terence, rolling up the rope in his hand as he did so. Rue gave a quick little snap of his tail and set himself zipping over to Smokey, coiling up near his head and looking over his shoulder. Smokey shot him a glance and started to hesitate, slow down, stop.

"What're you doing?" Blood growled.

"S'weird," Smokey said, a faint tremor in his voice. "The-the Pollywog ain't leavin' me alone."

"They prolly feed the damn things back in town," Blood said. "Shoo it or stab it."

"Eh, right. Ah..." He waved his hand up near Rue's face. "Go away," he said. "Get."

There were a number of things that many people never bothered to learn about the monsters that inhabited the outskirts of their living space. For instance, many people would toss scraps outside of a village and attract pollywogs to the free food. They were dreadfully easy to feed, and had a notable ability to eat quite a number of things that could potentially be edible. They tended to shy away from a lot of plant matter, however, for a very simple reason.

In the wild, pollywogs were opportunistic carnivorous scavengers.

And they had the teeth for it.

Smokey screamed and dropped the rope, desperately whipping his hands in front of him. Rue tried to hold on, digging his teeth into Smokey's skin, but he couldn't counter the bandit's flailing and wound up being flung himself, hitting the ground and rolling to a stop several feet away. He was briefly dazed, and his mouth filled with the taste of copper.

"What the hell!" Blood screamed. "Smokey! What'd I say 'bout _killin' it_?"

"Bit me!" Smokey hollered. "I'm bleedin' bad, boss!"

Rue shook himself and drifted upward again. Even from his distance and angle, he could see Smokey's glove was visibly darkening, excess blood dribbling onto the ground. The other bandit was already running up to him, drawing his dagger back from its sheath.

"All right, ya little bastard, you're mine!"

A few seconds before Blood reached him, Rue fixed on another thought, hit the ground, and was awash in blue light, and a split second later Blood crashed into the ground, massive feline claws pressing into his chest, a saber-fanged muzzle inches from his face.

"Smokey!" he yelled. His voice was cracking. "Get your fat ass over here and _help me_!"

"I'm tryin', bro!" he cried. Smokey was trying to wrap something around his bleeding hand, hurriedly and badly, and hearing Blood's scream he was simultaneously trying to reach for his own knife. Awkwardly, though; Rue had injured his dominant hand.

Blood was thrashing under Rue's claws, trying to bring his dagger up to slash at him, and Rue only just yanked himself backward as an errant blow brought the dagger dangerously close to his throat. Blood pressed the advantage, torquing his upper body forward, and Rue had to lunge off of him to avoid a head-butt to the chest. He landed on all fours, digging into the earth to bring himself to a full strop, and Blood flipped himself back to his feet. He was breathing hard, and his chest was starting to ooze little rivulets of blood, but the sword was in his hand and his eyes were blazing.

"I don't know what the hell is going on," he snarled, "but I ain't lettin' you outta here alive!"

Blood lunged. Rue shoved off the ground with his forelegs, called up another thought, and with another blaze of light he was using his momentum to propel himself backward, beating a set of feathered wings to carry him well out of Blood's path and up to the tree branches.

"B-Blood," Smokey called, his voice fully quavering now. "This ain't normal."

Blood shot him a glare. "Naw, you think!"

A second of distraction. Rue angled himself, folded his wings, and plummeted. Blood looked back up in time to see the hawk explode into blue, its form giving way to the mottled red-brown of an oversized fire lizard. By the expression on his face, he hadn't realized quite what was happening until he was already on the ground, hopelessly winded.

"Smokey," he gasped, the word hardly more than a burst of air.

Rue whipped around to face Smokey, who still stood a few paces away, immobilized by indecision, and helped him to make up his mind by letting loose a burst of flame in his direction. Smokey shrieked and took off into the forest, his blood-slicked knife hitting the ground where he had been standing.

Blood moaned and shut his eyes. "Useless," he grumbled.

Rue leaned forward, pressing his weight onto Blood's chest. Blood inhaled sharply, and Rue released and pulled back, then jumped off of him. He took a few heavy steps away, toward the knife, and released his form, reverting back to himself. Human again – and possessed of opposable thumbs – he reached down and picked up the knife Smokey had dropped, then proceeded to wipe the blade off on the fallen leaves.

Then he stood up, turned, and saw Blood was staggering back to his feet.

Rue looked at him, and said, "Please leave."

Blood bared his teeth and took a quivering step toward him. "That was some fancy fightin', freak," he snarled. "But I ain't done yet. I– urgh." His hand pressed up against his side. "Shee... g-got an old injury actin' up." He waved his knife somewhat listlessly in Rue's direction. "Lucky fer you, or I'd–"

"I'm not going to ask again."

Blood took a step forward and winced.

"Take your damn midget," he snapped. "I'm not gonna forget this!"

Without further comment or another glance back, Blood spun and left, heading deeper into the forest, where Smokey had gone.

Rue waited until he was certain he could hear or see no more of the man, and then looked over to the brush and trees. "They're gone," he said. "It's safe." He heard a rustle from nearby, but didn't turn to look at Elena; he walked straight to the Poppul Purrel and used the knife to slice through the rope knot around his leg. He checked for any other bindings and, finding none, hurled the knife into the forest. It was bad karma.

"Is he okay?" Elena asked.

"He's still breathing. Unconscious, though," Rue said. He ran his hand through the Poppul Purrel's hair and drew it back. Coagulated blood; they must have struck him over the head. It spread over a fair swath of the Poppul Purrel's head, but had mostly dried. Probably a glancing blow, then; lots of area, little depth. Or at least he hoped so.

He reached into his pouch and pulled out a strip of white cloth, similar to the one he wore around his forehead. He wrapped it around the Poppul Purrels head, trying to keep it tight without hurting too much. Once the makeshift bandage was secured, Rue lifted the Poppul Purrel and propped it over his shoulder.

"I can't really do anything else," Rue admitted. "We need to get him back to Mel."

Elena was standing on tip-toe, craning her neck to try and see Terence better. "Is he gonna be okay?"

"Of course," Rue said. "Mel can make him good as new, right?"

Elena beamed. "Right!"

"Could you get the money pouch?" When she'd retrieved it, he added, "And... do you know how to get there? I got kind of turned around."

"Mm-hmm. I'll lead you to her."

And she turned and marched. She didn't bother leading them back toward the path, instead cutting through the woods in the direction of Mel's atelier. The sky was growing dark, but Elena seemed surprisingly practiced, easily leading them through the thickening forest. He could see more light up ahead, streaming through a broad opening in the trees, and realized it was probably the edge of Mel's demesne.

After a few minutes, Elena slowed down and fell in step alongside Rue. "Hey, um..." She fidgeted a bit, her hands coiling around the hem of her dress, before the words finally came to her. "You– you weren't gonna kill him, right?"

"The bandit?" Rue asked. "No. But I had to scare them badly enough that they wouldn't think about doing that again."

"I've never seen them before," she said. "They aren't from around here."

"They didn't seem to be."

Elena was quiet for a moment, then started up carefully. "That, um... that thing you did. With the monsters."

Reflexively, his grip on Terence tightened. "Yeah?" He had to work to keep his voice tight and level.

"That was _really cool_."

And he laughed, a sudden release of tension, all of it directed at himself. What else had he really been expecting? "Your dad said the same thing." More or less.

"Where'd you learn to do that? I've never seen that before!"

Yeah, Klaus had said that, too.

"It's... hard to explain."

"Hmm." She frowned to herself, brow furrowed, clearly deep in thought.

The trees around them thinned out, then stopped altogether, giving way to the spun-sugar grass that ringed Mel's atelier. It had looked absurd earlier in the day, but sunset painted it differently, the pale landscape burning red and gold, lanced with lengthening shadows.

They started off across the field, although Rue could navigate from that point so Elena did not need to. While they walked, Rue checked on the bandage. The exterior was still clean, so at least blood hadn't starting seeping through, although he had to be careful when he moved it; he felt Terence shudder when he pressed too hard on the wound.

"Are _you_ a monster?"

It took Rue a couple of seconds to realize that Elena was addressing him. He looked over his shoulder. "Excuse me?"

"Well, I mean, I've never heard'a people being able to do that," she said. "I don't think even Fancy Mel can do that, and she's shown me a lot of neat magic. So I guess... is that what it is? You're a monster and you can turn into a person?"

"Oh. No, I don't– no."

"Drat," she muttered, snapping her fingers. "I thought I had it."

"That's not a _bad_ guess."

"Hmph."

Elena didn't have much more of an opportunity to guess, though; they had just about arrived at Mel's house. Rue nodded to the structure. "Can you get the door?" he asked, and Elena obliged, slipping ahead and knocking, prompting the musical sound to ring through the air. When it cleared, Mel called from inside – "Door's open!" – and Elena entered, with Rue following just behind. Elena held open the door for him, and when she shut it behind them Mel appeared in a flurry of lace and color, standing in the doorway.

"Elena!" she said brightly. "I wasn't expecting to see you so late. What brings– Terence!"

She crossed the room before Rue could even cognize that she had moved and was almost on top of him in an instant. He flinched back, but Mel seemed oblivious to him even standing there; without any acknowledgment of him she took Terence out of his arms and quickly retreated, straight through the dining room and into the back of the house. Elena gave chase, and Rue, after giving himself a few seconds to process what had happened, followed shortly.

Mel had set herself up in her bedroom and laid Terence on his back on top of her surprisingly mundane bed, his head tilted so she could get a good look at the damage. She was looking him over, searching him for additional injuries – other bruises or cuts, broken bones, visible edema that would warn her about internal damage – but after a few minutes of examination she exhaled and relaxed. She walked to the opposite side of the bed, knelt down next to him, and slowly removed the cloth around his head. It came away spackled in red, but the bleeding seemed to have entirely stopped.

"I can take him from here," Mel said. "Thank you." At that, she whistled, and the two little bat-like creatures from before zipped into the room. She addressed them directly –"I need you to bring me warm water and a damp cloth," – and then made a motion to send them along their way. Then she looked at Elena and Rue. "What happened?"

Elena quickly relayed what had happened to Mel, about her realizing Terence was gone and finding him in the company of bandits. Mel's expression darkened slightly as she listened, and when Elena was done she sighed heavily and shook her head. "Picking a fight with a Poppul Purrel," she said. "How cowardly." She nodded to Elena. "Thank you. I might not have realized until too late."

Elena smiled, but shook her head. "I couldn't have helped. Rue was the one who fought them off."

Mel's turned her attention on him. "I guess so," she said. "Then I owe you a great deal of thanks, too."

"It was nothing," he said quickly.

"No," Mel said. "No, it was definitely something. Ah, thank you." She addressed the last to the bat-creatures as they returned to the room, this time with a third. Two of them were hoisting a small pail between them, sloshing about with water; the third carried the damp cloth. They settled the pail next to Mel and handed her the cloth, and then vanished right out the door again. She immediately daubed the cloth against Terence's head, cleaning the wound.

"Thank you both very much," she said.

Elena smiled broadly. "I-it's nothing!" she said. "Is there anything else we can do?"

"No, you've helped immensely." She went back to examining the Poppul Purrel. "I'll have him right as rain by tomorrow."

"Oh, good." She tugged on Rue's sleeve. "We better get back to town before it gets dark."

"Good idea." She tugged again, and he turned to follow, nodding to the witch as he left.

"Wait."

Elena stopped. Rue looked over his shoulder.

Mel wasn't looking at them, she had washed the cloth off in the water pail, drained it, and pressed it against Terence's wound again. In spite of that, though, she was plainly addressing them. "I'd actually hoped you'd come back, Rue," she said. She checked the cloth, dunked it in the pail, and looked up, locking eyes with him. "I wanted to speak to you."

"Me?" he asked. "About what?"

"Things," she responded simply. Then she looked past him. "Elena, dear, could I ask you to give us some privacy?"

"You could," she said, grinning back at Mel.

Mel smiled back. "Could you give us some privacy? She indicated the door. "Fortney and Reginald are free right now, if you'd like to see them. We won't be long."

"All right," she said, and a few seconds later the door was closing behind her.

Rue turned his attention away from the door and back to Mel. He was expecting her to say something, obviously, but when she continued to silently work on cleaning up Terence, he finally had to speak.

"Are those really their names?" he asked.

She chuckled. "I named them that," she said. "I'm not sure if they ever had the luxury of _real names_ before. But of course that's not what I wanted to talk about."

Of course.

"Is it about the cube?" he asked.

"In a very roundabout way," she said. She lay the damp cloth down and picked up the one Rue had used, smoothing out a relatively clean side and using it to dry Terence. "What do you intend to do with the Relic?"

"That seems a little personal."

She smiled at him. "Just pragmatic," she said.

He was quiet for a few seconds, mulling over the response. He realized quickly that evasion would only prove foolish, and almost as quickly that perhaps he could use this opportunity to convince Mel to return the cube.

"Somebody very close to me was killed," he said. "I want to bring her back."

Mel stopped, brow creased, the edge of her mouth pinched into a frown. When she spoke again, her voice was laced with confusion: "Her?"

"Yes."

Mel watched him again, her gaze steady. "That's an extraordinarily dangerous proposition," she said. "Many people have tried to return the dead. It never ends well. A Relic can reshape a body, but without the soul you're left with a husk." Her gaze narrowed. "But you're already aware of that. You're not concerned."

"I'm still concerned," he said.

"But not about that," Mel said. She gripped the edge of the bed and slowly pushed herself back to her feet. "Can you tell me about her? This... woman, yes? Not a child."

"She saved my life," he said simply. "And when she needed me to save hers, I failed."

"I see." Mel closed her eyes. "Then can I ask you something else? Oh, fair warning, this is where the questions get personal."

He hesitated, but finally nodded. "Go on."

"You're not human, are you?"

"No."

She opened her eyes, blinking a few times, somewhat surprised. "Well," she said. "That was pleasantly easy."

"You've already worked it out," he said. "Why belabor the point?" He was taking the conversation in stride, or trying to, although at that moment he was finding it much harder to meet Mel's eyes.

She studied him, and slowly her expression softened. "And... you don't know anything more than that?"

He shook his head.

"I see." She walked around the bed and past Rue, out to the dining room. "Do you like tea? I have a few herbal blends."

The abruptness of the subject change caught him far more off guard than her questioning, and Rue had to take a few seconds to gather himself. "I– yes, sure."

"The kettle's still warm. Go into the kitchen and find something that sounds nice, I'll be back in a minute."

"Um..."

"I need to send Elena along," Mel said. She looked over her shoulder and gave him a warm smile. "Our talk might take longer than I thought."


	12. Anamnesis

**Twelve || Anamnesis  
**

* * *

"I really think I should walk Elena home," Rue said. "It's getting dark, and Mira doesn't like her to be out this late..."

"Don't worry," Mel said. "I've sent along an escort. He'll keep her safe."

Rue was still dubious, but he nodded. "All right."

Mel set down two sets of cups and saucers, and in the middle of the table she placed the kettle and a small plate of tea biscuits. She took her seat, and nodded to the chair opposite her. Slowly, Rue slid into his seat, and she smiled at him.

"Now that we're comfortable," she began, "I'd like to ask a few follow-up questions."

He had expected as much. He nodded.

"First, the simple part. Who was this woman, and why is she so important to you?"

Simple. Right.

. .

Her name was Claire.

Claire technically lived in a little town on the northern edge of East Heaven Kingdom, Greenvale. More practically, Claire lived outside the city, in a broad clearing in the nearby forest. The meadow housed a small cabin, a swath of land set aside for a few crops, and a barn, where Claire had kept her horse and a few pigs; she had later added a chicken coop, so she could gather the eggs and sometimes the meat. It wasn't much to live by, but she knew how to hunt and supplemented what she could harvest for herself by going down into the nearby valley and catching deer. When that wasn't enough, she would go into town and trade eggs and venison and any extra crops she had for supplies she needed; bread, seafood, dairy, cloth, tools. Sometimes she went into town to work an odd job here or there to collect a bit of actual money, if she wanted to purchase something a little more extravagant, but mostly she kept to herself and her land.

She was also uncommonly kind, generous, and warm, and willing to assist strangers far more than she had any reason to.

"Really?" Mel asked. "She sounds a bit misanthropic to me."

"It wasn't that," Rue said. "She just valued her privacy."

"So how did you meet her, if she kept sequestered in the forest."

"I collapsed on her lawn."

"Come again?"

. .

Exhaustion and malnutrition, he supposed. He had spent the last couple of days dragging himself through the snow with no food or shelter, relying entirely on snow to provide hydration. The area was utterly foreign to him, and by that point it was a bit past nightfall and starting to snow again when he saw the glow of the light outside her door. By that point he was barely pushing himself on, his strength rapidly waning, and he barely made it to the first step of her porch before just couldn't go any further.

She clarified to him what had happened months later, when he could finally ask her about it. The animals had started going crazy. They did that when there was an intruder – some wild animal or monster usually, the forest did house wolves – and when she heard the commotion she had gone out to see what was causing it. She had certainly not been expecting to find somebody passed out at her door.

Greenvale was too far away to take Rue for more proper medical treatment, especially with the snowstorm starting to pick up, so Claire took it upon herself to try and help. She brought him inside, got him warm, let him sleep somewhere comfortable, and when he woke up some time later she provided him with a warm meal.

. .

"That's what you mean by she saved your life," Mel said.

"Right," he said. "But there was more to it. She could have left it at that, gotten me fixed up and headed back toward the village. She worked out that I wasn't from there, though, and that I couldn't just walk in anyway."

"Why's that?"

"I didn't understand English."

Mel nodded. "I suppose that would be a complication." She frowned slightly. "But she understood you?"

"That's the thing," he said. "She didn't. It was... very weird, trying to speak with her. She felt the same way, I'm sure, but she never got impatient about it. Or maybe she did. She started teaching me English after about a week."

"What were you doing here that you didn't know the language."

"I don't know."

. .

The truth was, he didn't know much of anything.

Rue's first memory was only five years prior – a few days before he met Claire – when he woke up in a tomb.

Confusion set in immediately; where had he been, where was he now, _why_ was he there? The relevant questions were out of reach, although he could at least dredge up a name, which was not terribly helpful to him right then.

There was something else, though. He had a powerful feeling that, whatever he had been doing before waking up in that tomb, it had been important. He couldn't begin to think of what it was, but that sense of purpose managed to give him some kind of drive. He was weak and sore and his head was swimming, but with that thought he managed to find his way to the entrance of the tomb. It was sealed off, but clearly meant to be opened; even in his enervated state he managed to force the door open. What was waiting for him outside wasn't much of an improvement; it was a dark night, under heavy cloud cover, and snowing.

There were lights on the horizon, at least – Greenvale, he would eventually learn – and he followed them in hopes of finding civilization. He arrived at the edge of town too deep in the night for anybody to still be awake, but on the outskirts he found a poorly-sealed barn. Not exactly ideal, but it was warm and there was a roof and there was a water pump he could drink from, and it was certainly better than being locked in a tomb.

He managed to slip out of the barn before the owner came by to feed the animals, and headed into town. His first priority was to find somebody who recognized him and could tell him what had happened; his second priority, trying desperately to become first, was finding something to eat.

He found people, all right, but when he tried to speak to them they didn't respond kindly. Not that they were aggressive, but they were certainly wary. He had been confused at the time, but in retrospect he doesn't blame them; stranger walks into town speaking in tongues, looking as out-of-place as he did... he wouldn't want to get directly involved, either.

He searched town, less enthusiastically this time, speaking as little as he could and trying to pick up what words he could. None of them helped, not on their own, and as the day wore on it was becoming increasingly apparent that nobody in town knew him, or had ever seen him, or even recognized what language he was trying to speak.

Unfortunately, that meant he couldn't communicate a need for food or shelter. Maybe if he had been carrying some kind of currency he could have finagled something from a market stall, or gotten a room at an inn, or bribed his way onto somebody's floor, but as it was he was there was very little he could do. And, behind it all, there was still that terrible, throbbing realization that he was supposed to be _doing_ something.

He gave up on finding anything in the town and tried to find a map that could help him get his bearings, only to find that he didn't recognize the area and, of course, he was completely unfamiliar with the alphabet. Even if he had known the names of the nearby towns – which, he later found, he did not – he would never have been able to read them.

That was why he left the way he did, choosing a random direction and hoping it would work out.

. .

"I never did find anything out," he said, "but... after I was with Claire for a little bit, I didn't feel like I needed to. I couldn't completely shake that feeling for a while – that there was something I was forgetting, something I needed to do – but eventually she just let me forget it. I had other things to do. Better things."

"She gave you a purpose."

He mulled over the word. "No," he said. "Not a purpose. Almost the opposite. She let me... not worry about, I guess. Being with her I didn't need a purpose. It was good enough just to live."

. .

In exchange for what she had done, he insisted on giving something back. For the first week or so she refused to let him do so and insisted that he put all of his extra energy into learning what she was teaching. As it turned out, he had a preternatural gift for absorbing the language, and at the end of that week was more than capable of arguing his point to her without much difficulty. Claire resisted at first, although it seemed her objection was less because she didn't want his help and more because he made it sound like an obligation rather than a genuine desire.

"If you're going to help," she finally said one day, "then I want you to do it because you want to do it, not because you're paying me back for anything."

And that, he agreed to.

Which was good; Claire had been dedicating a lot of time to his recovery and his study, and had been somewhat neglecting her normal tasks. She taught him the basics of maintaining the field and keeping the animals happy, although she ultimately decided to take on those responsibilities herself. The main thing she taught him was hunting; how to make a clean kill, how to keep as much of the animal usable as possible. She also let him attend to the wood-cutting; she had never particularly enjoyed it, herself, and it turned out he was pretty good with an axe.

They fell into a routine. On good days, Rue would go out to the valley to hunt while Claire tended to the livestock and the field, or made a trip into town to sell any of their overstocked goods. In the evening they continued the language lessons, although it wasn't long before Claire decided to move off of spoken word and onto written, and after a couple of days he had the phonemes worked out and Claire started shoving her small library of books at him.

She invited him into town and he was given a proper introduction to the townsfolk. The ones who had been present for the minor fiasco of his original arrival proved to be apologetic and understanding; the town as a whole was pleasant and welcoming. After a few visits Claire encouraged him to take a few of the market days on his own, and he got to know the town better. And, after a couple of months, it was simply normal.

. .

"I'm starting to understand," Mel said. She drained the rest of her tea and reached for the kettle, pouring another cup. "Did she actually know what you are? Or aren't, I suppose."

"She was well aware. The thought didn't even occur to me until she brought it up."

"What prompted that?"

Now he hesitated. "I... I think she asked very early on, actually. Before I could understand what she was saying. I couldn't answer, of course, so she waited a little while to ask again. I still couldn't answer, but for, ah, different reasons." He hand pressed against his forehead. He closed his eyes and sighed. "But I think she asked because of this." He hooked his thumb under the cloth headband and slipped it from his forehead.

Beneath the cloth was a fragment of crystal, a lustrous ultramarine that his snowy bangs could not hope to conceal. The shard was embedded cleanly in the center of his forehead, the edges perfectly flush with his skin; an integral part of the body.

Mel sat up a little straighter in her seat, her eyes widening slightly. Rue turned his attention back to the table and found himself focusing on a point in the air somewhere just above the surface, his heart pounding a little quicker than he was used to.

"That's... very pretty," Mel offered.

He shot her a narrow glare, and she couldn't help but laugh.

"It _is_!" she insisted, but her good humor quickly vanished. "I understand why you hide it. That's not..." She searched for a better word, but had to settle for the first one that came to mind. "Normal." Mel settled down again, leaning forward on the table. "What was Claire's opinion?"

"It didn't matter," he said. "I mean, she didn't think it mattered. She was just curious."

"And your opinion?"

"I was worried," he admitted, "for a little bit. That maybe whatever I am would be a threat to her, or put the village in danger. Somehow. She told me to stop being stupid."

"What stupendous advice," Mel said. "She was a wise woman."

"Yes," he said. "But that time, I was right."

. .

Although not for quite some time.

The question had called in him some small amount of anxiety, and sometimes it would also call in him that old niggling thought, that there was something he needed to attend to. Once she had planted the thought, he tried to ignore it, but for the next few nights it bothered him to restlessness, and interrupted him when he went out hunting, abruptly overwhelming his other lonesome thoughts and distracting him from the task at hand.

Claire noticed, of course, and that was when she took him aside and told him on no uncertain terms that he was being ridiculous.

"I don't care what the answer is," she said. "You're my family now, Rue, I don't care _what_ you are."

Then she added, "But if you insist on having an existential crisis, try not to have it when I'm depending on you to bring back a deer."

He could agree to that.

And it helped, what she said. The idea bothered him for a bit still, but he could cast it aside by remembering what Claire had said; it was the first time she ever referred to him as _family_, and that was a powerful word. And as time went on, it bothered him less and less, and then ceased to bother him at all. Even that nagging sense of obligations unfulfilled left him entirely. The remarkable thing, as he saw it, was that she did nothing special about it at all; she simply lived life, and through her example Rue learned to do the same. For two years, he simply lived, and he was perfectly happy with that.

Then, winter.

Greenvale's name came from the evergreen forest it was nestled near, and within which Claire had chosen to live, but in winter the snow painted everything in whites. Winter was not a particularly harsh season, generally, but it did bring with it quite a few snowstorms and some rather cold wind. One such storm had been more aggressive than usual, shutting them inside the house for a couple of days.

The storm ended a few nights after it began; cloud cover gave way to stars, and when the lights in the cabin were turned down the moonlight set the meadow glowing silver. It was a gorgeous night, silent and still; hard to believe it had been storming for the past few days.

It was the first opportunity they had since the storm had begun to check on the animals. Claire had the foresight to provide them with extra food and keep them securely shut, but Rue wanted to check on them while they had the opportunity. The snowstorm had struck from nowhere, and even though the sky was clear there was no guarantee it would be like that come the morning.

So he bundled up, left the house, and headed to the stables. Partway there, he heard a minor commotion; the animals were agitated. Afraid.

He returned to the porch, picked up an axe, and headed back toward the barn.

Wolves lived in the woods, and maybe they figured the boxed-in animals would be an easy meal; maybe all of their prey was still in hiding after the snow. He didn't think a wolf could get into the barn, but so long as he was there he could at least try to frighten it away.

He checked around the barn and around the chicken coops, but there was no sign of anything in the meadow and he couldn't see movement beyond the tree line. There was no sense trying to chase after something, not in snowbound woods, not in the darkness. He planned to turn around and check on the animals, now that he knew they weren't in immediate danger, but he was sidetracked rather abruptly when he turned to face the house and saw someone move.

Making his way across the meadow was a man, cloaked in black and moving with palpable purpose toward the cabin.

Rue shouted out to him, warning him away from the cabin. The man stopped what he was doing and turned his attention to Rue. The man approached. Rue's grip on the axe handle tightened.

"I've been looking for you, Rue," he said. "Come with me."

Rue didn't recognize the man. He was not one of the villagers; he was not one of the traveling merchants; he was not one of the travelers who regularly stopped in Greenvale. Therefore, he had no reason to know Rue's name.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he wanted to ask the inevitable questions – where are you from, how do you know me, what do you want – but he knew better than the test it. The man didn't seem to be carrying any weapons, but he wasn't going to risk what might be under that heavy cloak.

So his reply was simple and terse. "No."

Which caused the man to falter. "No," he repeated. "What do you mean, _no_?"

Rue shifted his stance and made sure the man could see that he was still holding on to the wood axe. "I _mean_ no."

The man took a step forward, his arm sliding out from beneath his cloak. "You don't want to do that," he said..

Rue attacked.

Rue didn't mean to get into a true physical altercation; the man seemed unarmed, and Rue didn't want to hurt him, just scare him off.

The fight went poorly from there.

Rue was not a bad fighter – he hadn't been formally trained, but he had some amount of muscle memory to back him up – but his opponent was far better, and not so unarmed as Rue had thought. He did everything in his power to fight the man off, but the man had formal training, greater agility, and absolutely no compunctions about harming Rue.

The confrontation couldn't have lasted thirty seconds before Rue crashed to the ground, the intruder keeping him pinned tot he ground.

That should have been the end of it.

But suddenly the man staggered, a screaming growl rising in his throat, and Rue barely managed to flip himself onto his back to see why. There was the man, shivering now and hissing in pain, a trail of crimson rapidly blooming behind him on the snow. In front of Rue was Claire, still in her purple nightdress, wielding a bloody pickaxe.

She turned to look at him and gave him a tight not-quite-smile. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Fine. I'm f– CLAIRE!"

She snapped her attention around. Too late.

The blow set off a burst of sound, like snapping twigs, and sent Claire flying. She hit the ground, rolled, and came to a stop several feet away, face-down in the snow.

The pickaxe had fallen just in front of Rue.

He acted on instinct, threw himself forward, grabbed the pickaxe, and tore after the man, and suddenly the situation was quite different. Rue was no longer surprised, and no longer concerned with holding back. The man tried to keep on the offensive, but even if Rue had allowed him a moment to breathe he couldn't have possibly continued to fight, not with the ragged wound pouring blood down his back.

And then the man retreated. Rue almost gave chase – it would have been a simple matter to follow his trail – but he couldn't leave Claire. It sounded like he had broken her ribs. She needed medical attention.

Or so he told himself. But he knew before he had returned to her that it would do no good.

. .

"I tried to wake her up," he said. "It was stupid, but I just sat there, waiting for her to start breathing and open her eyes. There was no blood. I tried to trick myself into thinking that maybe– I don't know what I tried to tell myself."

"She died defending you."

He said nothing.

Mel picked up a biscuit and tapped it against the edge of her saucer. Her eyes flicked away to a distant corner of the room, her jaw tight, and she remained silent for several seconds. Then, slowly, her gaze returned to Rue. "That's her soul, then."

He looked at her, expression unreadable.

"You never asked how I can tell you aren't human," Mel said. "It's your soul. Or not your soul, specifically, but... a shadow. A second soul." She lay the biscuit down on the saucer and pushed it aside, giving him her undivided attention. "That's why you aren't afraid of what will happen if you bring her back. Her soul is there, with you. It just needs a proper body."

"That's right."

"How did you do that?" Mel asked. "Subsume her soul like that?" She paused, then sighed. "Sorry. You wouldn't know the answer to that any more than anything else, would you?"

He shook his head. "I wasn't trying to make it happen. I... I saw it leave her body, and I asked her not to go, and she... she didn't."

Mel stood up. "That's a valiant reason to search for a Relic, I'll grant you that."

He straightened somewhat. "So you understand," he said. "I have to get whatever's hidden under there. I have to bring her back. I owe her everything. It's... it's my duty."

"Oh, I completely understand," Mel said. She stepped around the table, approaching him. "And while it's very valiant, _you_ have to understand. The power in that Relic, if it were unleashed on the world, cannot be easily contained. Breaking the seal could be catastrophic."

"How do you mean?"

"Valen's goal was to control the universe through his ultimate Relic," she said. "If that's what's guarded by the altar – even a prototype, anything of that nature – then its power cannot hope to be contained by man. Trying to use it without understanding it could tear apart the world. Do you understand that?"

"I can't just _not_ try," he said. "If I could just get Claire back–"

"That's a no, then," she said sharply. "Let me re-iterate; bringing that Relic into this world could destroy it. Destroy _us_. Destroy _everyone_. Are you willing to risk everything on the possibility that you can bring this one woman back?"

He pulled away from Mel, almost falling off the chair to do so. He tried to formulate words, but his mouth had gone dry and all he could manage was a faint exhalation of breath. Mel pulled back, giving him a little more room, and closed her eyes.

"Finish your tea," she said. "Head back to town when you're ready. I need to check on Terence."

And without another word she swept past him, disappearing into her room. Rue turned, almost tried to call out to her, but his words caught in his throat again. He relaxed back onto the chair, feeling somewhat shaken, and looked down at his cup. Back to the door. No words.

He finished the rest of his cup, replaced the cloth headband, and left.


	13. Conversations

**Thirteen || Conversations  
**

* * *

****Mint needed information.

Specifically, what she needed was to get that cube back. In the interim between speaking with the witch and returning to town, she had realized a few dreadful possibilities and knew she had to act as quickly as possible to head them off.

If Mel had not been lying – and Mint had no reason to think she was – then Mint had to get the cube back. The kind of raw power Mel had talked about was somehow more than Mint had ever dared to dream; she had aspirations of conquest and vengeance and righting all the injustices in the world (at least those that had been done to her), but the idea of being able to control the universe – to make things just the way they should have always been – was almost dizzying.

Which meant two things: Rue's innocuous request to use the Relic first was in even greater contention than it had been, and Mel was sitting on the key to retrieving the Relic. The former, Mint could handle in due time, but the latter was far more worrying. Mel seemed to have an idea of what to do to open the box. What if she wanted the Relic? What if she had been waiting for some sap to dive down into Elroy's atelier and bring it to the surface for her?

Mint shuddered at the possibility.

So what she needed was a means of getting it back.

She could sneak out to the atelier again, try to scope out the area, look for any hiding places Mel might have stashed the cube, but chances were she was keeping it in her house and that would be much harder to case without being seen. She needed a plan. She needed to know more about Mel.

So she was headed to the pub.

She had done a little exploring of Carona the previous night and found an alley between some of the buildings, a narrow stretch of street clearly not intended for tourists, so of course she had to investigate. On the opposite side was a strip of street clearly not intended for public use; its location squeezed it between the buildings and the wall, keeping it perpetually in shadow, and it seemed to be home to the mechanical equipment that pumped water into town. There was ample room to move – no doubt for when the device had first been built, and when repairs needed to be done – and the street itself was much longer than it needed to be just to house that kind of equipment. It was clear that the area had not been built for buildings, but a couple of folks had gotten the clever idea to set up shop all the way in the back.

There was an actual shop, or what seemed to be an actual shop, although when Mint had approached it had been closed and now that she was back again it was closed again. Probably just too late in the day, though; she had only found this little treasure just before nightfall the prior day, and most of the main town markets were already closed up around that time, too.

More importantly, however, there was a pub. It nestled in the far corner, well away from the pump equipment, warm light and muffled conversation pouring out of its windows. She hadn't bothered to go in the previous night – no point to it – but for her travels she found that bars and pubs tended to have a lot of information for not a lot of effort.

Even so, it was Plan B for her. She had figured the children in town would know more about Mel than most of the adults, if Klaus' reaction was anything to go by, but by the time they had made it back it seemed to be too late. They were all headed home by evening, and even Elena had disappeared.

Thus, the pub.

She headed inside.

The exterior of the building was nothing out of the ordinary for the town, and the interior was much the same. It was well-lit and inviting, the tables large, the chairs plentiful. It wasn't particularly full – early in the evening, never mind that the town wasn't exactly huge – but she had an idea for the dynamics pretty quickly; most of its patrons were gathered, if loosely, around one area, chatting animatedly amongst themselves. There was definite familiarity among them, and she recognized most of the faces from around town, although she didn't know any of the names.

Except one.

He was sitting at the end of a table, his chair leaned back to touch the wall. Most of the gathering was clustered around him, and those that weren't were generally turned to face him. In front of him was an empty set of plates; in his hand, a half-finished mug of brown ale. His hat was tipped slightly over his eyes, but she didn't need to get a good look at his face; the long and vibrantly red hair was a dead giveaway. That, and his was still refusing to wear a shirt.

"So he comes back in a month," Rod was saying, "literally comes ridin' into town, trying to look taller than everybody up on this horse, and I know this isn't gonna end well because he didn't bother with the horse when I he saw me before. But I get the sword ready, make sure she's polished, sheath her and go out to talk to the guy. I give him his sword and he gives it a few swings, and he's got this _look_ on his face, you know?"

"Not at all!" one of the patrons – older fellow, scruffy and grizzled and still tough-looking for his age – shouted out. "What, you screw up his sword?"

Rod laughed. "Who do you think I am!" he cried, but he was all good humor and broad smile. "It's perfect, and the guy knows it, but he's tryin' real hard not to look impressed by it. So he swings it around a few times and I can see that he's trying not to admit anything, and finally he stops and says, 'I suppose this is adequate'." He tilted his head and assumed a low, snooty voice to make his point. "So he tosses me the money and it's hardly half of what we agreed to."

The crowd is immediately spurred to reaction; a chorus of voices rises up, indignation and laughter alike, but no sense of surprise. Either this is an old story, or they can all guess where it's going.

"Well, I remind him what our arrangement was, since it clearly slipped his mind..."

"Clearly!" another voice calls up, a smooth-faced gentleman dressed in well-to-do travel attire.

"...but he isn't listening, he's already rounded the horse and he's getting ready to just make a dash for it, probably figured he'd be able to get away before I'd counted the coins. 'Course, I figure what he's planning, so I'm already reaching for one of my weapons. Turns out the guy was fast, though, probably pulled the same scam before, and he's already charging halfway out the gate before I can do anything."

Another chorus, another round of muttering, and Mint stepped fully onto the floor, sidling up next to the first person she happened to see– a young man, no older than his early twenties, quite well-dressed for the occasion and slowly sipping at a brightly-colored cocktail.

"What's going on?" Mint asked.

"He's talking about the time a four-fingered man tried to swindle him," he said. "Guy wanted a sword that was very specially made, what with him missing a finger. He's told this before, but it's always fun."

"That's not what I–"

"Shh!"

"I'm thinking, damn, he's gonna get away, but outta nowhere–"

And the congregation called out, as one, "Lucine!"

Uproarious laughter, and a solid _wham_ as Rod slammed the mug against the table. "Lucine! Drives a piece of wood between the horse's legs, trips him up, and down goes the horse and the guy. Then she's yanking the weapon back from him before he even knows what's what and– well, let's just say that she gave the guy a nice little talk and he saw the error of his ways. Even threw in a nice little bonus."

At that, somebody rose from his seat: an elderly man, gone gray and sporting an impressive beard, who had been sitting only a couple of seats down from Rod. He raised his glass, closed his eyes sagely, and nodded. "And _that_," he said, "was the last time anybody tried to swindle the Blade Star!"

"Hear, hear!" they cheered, and the gathering raised their glasses in toast and downed their drinks. When they were done, they dissolved into laughter and chatter again, although Mint had stopped paying attention to that. She looked at the man she had been speaking to. He had raised his glass in polite acknowledgment, but wasn't quite so ebullient about downing the rest of his drink.

"Okay," Mint said. "So what's going on _here_?"

"Ah, you mean... I see." He set his glass down. "That's Rod the Blade Star. Every some-odd months he comes into town with a new set of weapons to sell and a new batch of stories to trade."

"Trade."

"Food. Drinks." The man gave her a half-smile. "I hear he hasn't had to pay his tab in years."

"Hmm." Then, after another moment. "Who're you?"

"Name's Neil," he said, and offered his hand. She shook it. "I'm an antique dealer. Come to Carona every few months myself to see if Klaus has found anything new." He leaned on the counter and gave Mint a sideways glance. "Yourself? I haven't seen you around town before."

"Mint," she said. "I have some dealings with Klaus, myself."

Neil suddenly perked up. "Oh! You're one of the folks helping him on his Relic hunt, aren't you?"

She frowned. "How d'you know about that?"

"I was doing business with him earlier. We got to talking." He shrugged. "You and your friend already helped him out a ton, huh?"

"I guess you could say that." She saw an opportunity and leaned on the counter, nonchalantly as possible. "But we've hit a bit of a snag."

Neil took a sip from his drink. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. You know anything about Fancy Mel?"

He shook his head. "Not a lot, not personally. But I don't live here." He pointed into the crowd. "Hobbs would know, I bet– he's the old-timer there. The one who proposed the toast. He owns the little shop across the way, sells some interesting magical goods. A bit rich for my blood, but Mel sometimes does business with him."

"Thanks."

"Hey, let me buy you a drink," he said. "Klaus is an old friend of mine. You guys helping him out is fantastic."

"Thanks, but maybe later," Mint said.

Neil smiled and nodded. "Catch me when you want to cash in," he said genially. "Maybe bring along the other guy– Rue? Him too. I'll treat you both."

"Yeah, maybe." Although her heart wasn't in it. Her gaze was slicing through the small gathering, focusing on the old man as he sat back down in his chair, taking another long draw out of his mug. Slowly, she began working her way into the crowd.

"Oi, Mint!" Rod called, waving broadly in her direction. She stood up tall, peering over the crowd, and half-heartedly waved back. "Told you they had a nice bar!"

Slowly, attention turned to her.

"Haven't seen you around," Hobbs said. "You new to town?"

"One of Klaus' assistants, I think."

"Oh yeah! I heard they fought a dragon!"

"You mean Wylaf? No way!"

"Hah! I heard that, too. Something down in the mines."

Rod leaned forward, his chair clattering back into place, and grinned in Mint's direction. "Getting into trouble already, huh?"

"You've met?" one of the gathering asked.

"I brought her into town," Rod said lazily. "It's all my fault she's tearing the place up." A ripple of chuckling passed over the crowd. Clearly they had all been drinking for at least a bit before Mint had arrived. Rod motioned for her to come forward. "Have a seat! Sounds like you've got some stories to tell."

She thought about it. "Yeah, I think so," she said. She yanked a chair out from another table and shoved it up next to the one the group was gathered around and settled right in. "First of all–"

"First of all," said the man in fine traveling gear, "I think we're ready for a refill. Annette! Another round, on me!"

A tall, blond woman leaned around the corner from the kitchen doors. "On it!" she called, and immediately vanished again.

Hobbs laughed and gave him a nod. "Good call, Marcum."

"You've been busy," Rod said, addressing Mint. "What've you been up to?"

Mint settled into her seat again, fully relaxed now. It had been a while since she had been the center of attention like this, and even though she had come in here with a plain goal, she had to bask in the glow. Besides, if she played it up right...

"Well."

And she wove them a story. She left out some of the finer details – the fact that a Relic was involved being foremost, she decided it wouldn't be smart to mention that to a room full of people – but she wove them a tale of her exploits on the island. There were some interruptions, some questions, and some back and forth conversation. The most interesting came from a man she eventually learned was the harbor-master, Davis, who interjected when she approached the story about fighting the skeletal dragon.

"My granddad told me stories about that," he said. "Said Elroy used some kind of bone dragon to drive out the nobility of Carona so he could rule the island himself. All who opposed him were slaughtered by the skull beast." He grinned at her, visibly impressed. "And you guys survived?"

Mint grinned right back. "I hope so, or you should be a lot more worried about where this is going."

"Touché!"

It wasn't long after that, of course, that she came upon their encounter with Mel. She had to do some finagling with the story, but she managed to settle on something that was close enough to the truth.

"So we bring her this thing, right? This stupid gold box, and she tells us 'Oh, no, you shouldn't have that, it's far too dangerous!' and just swipes the thing right outta my hand and sends us off!"

There are nods of sympathy, but the crowd isn't quite backing her. "That's terrible," Marcum said, "but she was probably right."

Davis folded his arms. "Hate to agree, but it's true. Elroy was a tyrant, and they say he worked with demons. Anything of his you dig up is probably riddled with all sorts of dark magic."

"Doesn't give Mel any reason to hoard it," Hobbs grumbled. "Sounds like the little lady can take of herself just fine."

"And if the box exploded into demons right on the island?" Marcum asked. It was a serious question, but he couldn't keep a straight face when he asked it.

Hobbs scratched at his beard. "Well, that might be kind of annoying."

She latched on to the conversation. "I doubt it's demons," she said. "It didn't feel all... demon... y."

"I take it you didn't get the box back?" Neil asked, projecting his voice from where he was still seated at the counter.

"Not yet," Mint said. "We only just got back from Mel's, actually." She looked around the table, although her gaze lingered a bit on Hobbs. "I was hoping maybe somebody here might have an idea for how to get it back."

There was a bit of grumbling.

"That's probably not a good idea," Davis said. "I'm sure Mel had a reason for taking the box."

"She shouldn't be able to just do that." The voice this time belonged to the gruff-looking man she had heard earlier; Mint had picked up that he was an old cartographer named Graham. "They found the thing fair n' square, they should be able to decide what to do with it."

"Not if it's evil," Davis countered.

"Doubt that," Hobbs said. "Mel would've just destroyed it if that was the case. If she's warning against power, that's exactly what she means. She's got this... this thing, where she doesn't trust people to go gallivanting around with that kind of power in their palms."

"Can't blame her," Marcum said. "Power isn't evil, but a lot of people with bad intentions come into it. There's been a lot of tyrants who wouldn't have been if somebody had taken away their toys."

"I'm not blaming her," Hobbs said. He looked up to Mint. "You want that box back for yourself?" he asked. "You're going to need to prove to her that you deserve it. You can show her you're not trying to take over the world or something, I'm sure she'll hand it right back over."

"I... see," Mint said slowly.

"Heck, you might as well just go talk to her in the morning," Hobbs added. "After you've both had a good night's sleep on it. She might figure she's being irrational." He chuckled. "Or you can think of a better story."

"Are you really set on getting it back?" Davis asked. "What's so important about the cube?"

Mint already knew how to answer that. "I didn't almost get myself killed by Elroy's world-conquering skeleton dragon just to have the prize taken away."

"Hear, hear!" Graham called, raising his glass.

"If I may," Marcum interjected, "why did you decide to come to Carona?" He smiled wanly. "The most exciting to happen in months is us gathering around to listen to Rod."

She froze for a second. Chasing Relics was still a bad idea, and she's already made it clear she hadn't come explicitly to help Klaus. But after a few seconds, she finally settled on the truth. Or something close enough.

"Treasure hunting," she said. "I didn't really plan on sticking around, but after I got to talking to Klaus things just... fell into place."

"And you're not done yet," Marcum said.

"Not if we can get that cube back."

Graham laughed. "A final round! For the good fortune of yourself, and that other guy, and for Klaus and his ridiculous research!"

Voices raised as one. "Hear, hear!"

"Annette, my dear?" Graham said, much more quietly, looking away from the table. At some point Annette had taken a position alongside Neil, out of the swell of the crowd but still listening, leaning on the counter. At the announcement she was already pushing herself upright, nodding to the group and bustling into the back. Before she had disappeared entirely, Graham added, "Put it on Rod's tab!"

They all laughter, they shouted agreement, even Mint got caught up in the energy and grabbed somebody else's discarded glass to make a toast. Maybe not a lot of information tonight, but she couldn't argue that it hadn't at least been fun.

Even Rod raised his mug and joined in the refrain. "Hear, hear!" he shouted, and finished his drink.

Then he stopped and lowered the mug. "Wait, what?"

. .

They sat in front of a broad window overlooking the palace courtyard, bathed in the clear light of morning. A table stood between them; on it, a chess board and a small hourglass, rapidly counting away the seconds. Playing the white side was a young girl, no older than fourteen, cloaked in the whites and blues of the royal family. Across from her, playing red, a man in his thirties, dressed in dark. It was a striking dichotomy, although not at all strange; the morning chess game had become a tradition.

The girl bit her lip, wind-red eyes swept across the chess board, taking in the tableau again and again. She swept strawberry-blond hair out of her eyes, looked back and forth quickly, searched for patterns.

Across from her, her opponent spoke: "There _is_ a time limit, Princess."

"I am– _well_ aware, Doll Master," she said tightly. "But one should not rush decisions."

"No," Doll Master said. "But indecision and inaction is just as damning." He looked over to the hourglass set up next to the board. "And you are about to–"

She reached out, snapped up her bishop, and slid it across the board just as the last of the sands ran through. Doll Master stopped speaking. She looked up, somewhat indignant, and he met her gaze. His expression was always hard to read; his hazel-brown eyes were hidden in the shadow of the mask he always wore, an abstract design of red and black and white. Although in that moment his expression was a bit easier to read; a faint smirk was tugging at the edge of his mouth.

She reached over wordlessly and flipped the hourglass. Without hesitation he moved, sliding his rook up the board to strike the bishop, which he immediately set down on his side of the board.

"Of course," he added, "decisions made under duress can be even worse than taking no action at all."

Her shoulders fell. "That's check," she said.

"Ah, sorry." He cleared his throat. "Check."

She sighed. She had been playing a losing game – anybody could see as much, just looking at how overwhelmed her white pieces were by his red – but she had been hoping to put up a somewhat better fight. Experimentally, she shifted the king to a different square, but saw out of the corner of her eye that Doll Master was shaking his head. She tried again – no good – and again, and realized that she had mostly boxed herself in. She gave up on the king and looked across the rest of the board, but the only move she could make, blocking out the rook, would just prolong the inevitable.

"Checkmate," she murmured.

"You still have a move."

She made her point by flicking the top of her king and sending it tumbling. "Alas," she said, "he has died of an undiagnosed heart condition."

Doll Master smiled, softly this time, and nodded. "I accept your forfeit," he said, and went to work re-setting the board.

"Not another game," she murmured, rubbing her palm against her forehead. "You are an impossible opponent."

"We don't need to play again," he responded. "But I hate to leave a board in such disarray. Perhaps assist?"

She did so, although grudgingly, returning the red pieces she had taken and scooping up the white, setting them back in position.

"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself, Princess," he said. "I do have a few years of experience on you, and you've improved dramatically."

"That is true," she said. "Thank you."

"Excuse me, sir."

Doll Master turned his attention away from the board. Standing at the door to the room was another member of the royal court, dressed impeccably and poised perfectly. He bowed, and on rising he clasped his hands behind his back again, tilting his head toward Doll Master. "I apologize for the intrusion, sir."

"Nonsense, Psycho Master," he said. "We were just concluding our game."

"What fortuitous timing, then," Psycho Master said. "There is a matter I wish to discuss with you."

"Of course."

"A matter of personal nature." He nodded to the girl. "Princess Maya, I'm afraid I must ask for privacy."

Maya blinked, somewhat caught off guard. "For– oh! Yes, of course." She rose from her chair and pushed the seat back into place. "I should be departing, anyway. My tutors don't approve of this exercise."

"Nonsense," Doll Master said. "Games of strategy are integral to the health of a nation's ruler. Don't you agree, Psycho Master?"

"As you say, my lord."

"Regardless," Maya said, "I take my leave. You'll be attending the council meeting this evening, Doll Master?"

"Such is my obligation."

"Then we'll meet again there." She nodded to him, then to Psycho Master, and then turned and made her way out the door. As it shut behind her, Doll Master held up his hand and concentrated, and the energy around the room constricted. Errant magic threads wove together into tight bindings, making the room feel somehow far smaller than it was. Their voices had a faint echo to them as they rebounded off the silent veil.

"Come, sit," Doll Master said, absently waving at Maya's vacated chair.

"There's little point, sir," Psycho Master said. "My report is brief."

"But personal."

"Yes. I have received interesting news from Carona."

Doll Master leaned forward on the table, replacing the chess pieces on the board. "Carona?" he repeated. "I wasn't expecting to hear that name." He looked down at the board for a moment, absently making a few adjustments. "I take it this is to do with Valen's Relic?"

"Yes, sir. Another player has joined in the game."

"Of course," he murmured. "What is it this time? Bandits, mercenaries? Another mage?" He sighed through his teeth. "I tire of mages."

"A mage," Psycho Master said, "of sorts. Do you recall our wayward princess?"

Doll Master stopped what he was doing, his hand hovering over a slightly misaligned knight, and slowly looked up to Psycho Master, his expression slowly melting in a grin. "No," he said, disbelieving. "She's there?"

"There, and aware of its significance," Psycho Master said. "She's appropriated a cohort and managed to retrieve something from the Grand Magician's tomb. It may be the key Elroy fashioned."

Doll Master leaned back in the chair, pressing his hands together. "I see," he murmured. "And the nature of this cohort?"

"A Relic researcher lives on the island," Psycho Master said. "I would imagine she's working with him."

"Hm." He looked out the window, giving himself a few seconds to sort out his thoughts, then looked back to Psycho Master. "I trust you've made the necessary preparations?"

"He's been dispatched to Carona, sir," he said. "He should arrive sometime tomorrow."

"Perfect." Doll Master stood. "The princess would not have been my first choice, but she is a terribly stubborn girl. She might be the one to break the seal." He nodded to Psycho Master. "Monitor the situation closely. Keep me abreast of any further developments."

"Of course, sir."

"And I hardly need to tell you to communicate only to me. Keep the royal family in the dark on this matter."

"Naturally, sir."

"Good." Doll Master flicked his wrist, and with that action cast away the magic net, opening the room and allowing their conversation to be heard once more. "You are dismissed."

Psycho Master bowed and drifted out of the room. Doll Master watched him go, and when the door shut he turned and leaned on the window sill, looking down at the courtyard gardens.

He certainly had not anticipated this.


	14. Divisions

**Fourteen || Divisions  
**

* * *

The next morning, Rue stepped out his room feeling defeated and miserable. He hadn't had a chance to tell Klaus about what had happened to the cube – either Mel's originally taking it, or her obvious adamance about not giving it back – and he was not much enamored by the prospect. Klaus had probably already worked out that something had gone awry, as neither Rue nor Mint had visited him after leaving to speak to Mel, but that hardly made the task any easier.

Never mind that his conversation with Mel hung over him like a pall. What if she was right, if this pursuit could actually end in catastrophe? Was he willing to put the whole world at risk on the chance that he could bring her back? But on the other hand, what choice did he have? He could give up and look for another Relic, but it had taken him three years of combing a continent to finally find this one, and the idea of turning away when he was so close was almost physically sickening. He couldn't leave it like this.

He walked downstairs, thoughts whirling, and was almost out the door when he heard a voice call him; "Hey, Artema!"

He looked up to see Mint at the breakfast table, nibbling at her last piece of toast. She waved him over, but he only stepped away from the door to face her.

"Where'd you disappear to last night?" she asked. "Mrs. Cartha said you didn't come back until kind of late."

"I was trying to negotiate with Mel," he said.

"No dice?"

"Afraid not."

"Hmm." She set down the last bit of crust and stood up from the table. Midway through shoving the chair back, she stopped. "Wait, you _went back_? Seriously?"

"It... just kind of happened."

"I salute the sacrifice of your corneas," she said. "You didn't happen to mention any of this to Klaus?"

"Didn't get a chance."

"Damn. I was trying to avoid being there when he heard."

"Well... maybe he can help," Rue said. "He might have some idea of how to get it back or convince Mel, or maybe... maybe there was something else in Cadomon's notes? Elroy couldn't possibly be the only magician who found that Relic."

She grunted faintly. "Maybe."

"Are you done?"

"Yeah. You're not eating?"

"Not particularly hungry."

She shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Rue led the way out the door, and he and Mint were almost to the Adler house when Mint tapped on his shoulder. Rue stopped and looked over to her, and she pointed to the forest gate.

"What's he doing here?" she asked.

Rue followed where she was pointing, and his gaze settled on a Poppul Purrel standing just inside the gate, towing behind him a small cart and looking slightly lost.

"Mel sends them out to shop," he explained. "But Elena said he usually comes in the evening." Must be making up for last night, then. He wondered if it was a different one, but as he watched he saw that the Poppul Purrel still looked a little disheveled, a patch of his hair all frayed over, the pallor of a makeshift bandage hiding beneath the dusty red.

Then the Poppul Purrel looked over in their direction, and immediately lit up. He gripped the little cart and charged toward them, surprisingly fast for such short legs, and came to a stop just a couple of feet shy of crashing. He looked briefly at Mint, but his focus settled on Rue.

"Are you Rue?" he asked.

Mint folded her arms and watched the creature curiously. "Who're you?"

"Terence?" Rue asked.

"Yes," the Poppul Purrel said. "Mel told me. You saved me?"

Now Mint's curiosity gave way to confusion, and she directed it straight to Rue. "What did you say you were doing last night?"

"Things just kind of happened," he repeated. He knelt down in front of Terence. "Are you okay to be out here?"

"Yes," he said. "Had to finish trip. Also wanted to see Rue." He gave a little bow. "Thank you."

"Oh. I-it was no problem."

"Mel wanted to thank you, too." He nodded to the cart. "She sent me with a present. For you. And for your friend."

"She..."

He stood up again and walked over to the cart. Sitting neatly in the back was a small package, wrapped in understated brown paper and a neat little twine cord. On top of it was a tightly rolled piece of parchment. He leaned in to pick up the package and almost dropped it the instant it touched his hand.

"She didn't," he said. He grasped it more tightly. "No way."

"What've you got?" Mint asked.

Rue held it up for her to see. She looked at it for a few seconds, not quite comprehending. "Yeah, thanks for clearing that right up." But before Rue needed to explain, her eyes widened and her mouth dropped slightly open. "Wait– that's the cube!"

Rue nodded.

"I thought you said you didn't convince her!"

"I-I didn't," Rue said. "She must've changed her mind. I– thank you, Terence."

Terence smiled broadly. "No trouble," he said. "Mel sent a good thank-you?"

"Yes," Rue said. "Yes she did."

"Then I'm happy you're happy," he said. "I'm going to market again. I hope to see you again. Maybe we can play, next time."

"Take care, Terence."

The Poppul Purrel bowed one last time, then hitched his cart and turned, heading toward the market square. Rue continued to stare at the packaged cube, baffled. Mint leaned over to get a better look.

"You're sure that's it?" she asked. "It's not just a box that she wrapped up. We're not going to open it and it's going to wind up being something stupid."

He handed it over to her. "The magic's there," he said. "No mistaking it."

Mint seized the cube and concentrated, and a grin spread across her face. "Oh, wow. This is it." She looked over the package and back to Rue. "What on _earth_ did you tell her last night?"

"I don't know. She... she made it _abundantly_ clear that she wasn't going to give this back."

Mint laughed. "Guess it doesn't matter," she said. "I'm glad I keep you around."

"Thanks," he said flatly.

Mint wheeled and marched up to Klaus' door. "C'mon," she said, already knocking as she called to him. "We gotta show this to him." She pulled her hand back and looked down at the package, contemplating the box. Then, carefully, she slipped the note out of the cord and handed it to Rue. "These are instructions, right? Please tell me they're instructions."

He took the note and unrolled it. There was a lot of text on the paper, written in neat but cramped handwriting, although he only needed to scan the first couple of paragraphs before he could be certain. "This is it," he said. He quickly twisted the paper back into a cylinder. "I can't believe..."

The door creaked open. Klaus stood behind it.

"Welcome back!" he said brightly. "I was a bit worried when you two didn't come back last night... did something happen?"

"Yes," Mint said. "And then something happened this morning."

Klaus looked at her carefully. "I'm not sure what that means." He opened the door fully and stepped aside. "But come in, tell me what you can. What did Mel say?"

"That's what I mean," Mint said, bustling past Klaus. "We went to talk to her and she refused to listen to reason. She actually took the cube from us!"

Klaus blinked. "She did what?"

Rue stepped inside and shut the door behind him. "She wasn't that unreasonable," he said. "In fairness, it sounds like we're sitting on top of something very powerful. Possibly dangerous. She was just worried."

"But that doesn't matter," Mint said. She looked over to Rue. "Because _some_body convinced her to hand it back."

At which point she plunked the cube down on the table and undid the twine. The cord fell away, and then the paper, and sitting there, just the way they had left it, was the golden cube, etched with Elroy's intricate designs. Klaus stared at it for a moment, then slowly approached and plucked it from its resting place.

"Here," Rue said, handing him the paper. "She gave us instructions, too."

Klaus looked between the two objects – the parchment, the box, back and forth – his expression slowly evolving from uncertainty to a broad grin. "Marvelous," he breathed. "Absolutely... down to the cellar. We'll have a proper look at this."

He led the way, Mint and Rue just behind him, and a few minutes later he was back at his desk in his workroom, the cube sitting off to his right, the parchment held open in front of him. He was scanning the document's upper section, his finger roving across the words, and after a few minutes he turned his attention back to the cube, flipping it over a few times before settling on a particular side.

"You finished reading all that?" Mint asked.

"Just the part about opening the cube," Klaus said. "She laid out the instructions quite clearly. Then she said 'if you want to know what's inside, open it and see. Then she drew a little smiley face." He clicked something. "Give me a moment, this is somewhat deli–"

His thumb ran over the edge of one of the patterns, and suddenly the cube ignited. Klaus threw himself back into his chair; Mint and Rue could just barely shield their eyes. The cube erupted into golden light, washing the room both in its radiance and in a burst of intense magic. And then, a few seconds later, it stopped just as abruptly as it had begun. There was silence from the three as they waited for their to adjust to the light, and then the first voice pierced the veil.

"What the _hell_ am I looking at!"

It was Mint.

Rue was not far behind. He blinked a few times, trying to clear the afterimages out of his vision, and looked first to the desk, a blank spot where the cube had stood a few seconds ago. His attention trailed away, roving downward until he was staring at the floor, and he couldn't help but echo Mint's question.

There was a boy.

A younger boy– seven, eight? He was blond, and swathed in intricately patterned gold robes, although in spite of the attention to his dress he was barefoot and otherwise unadorned. He was splayed out rather unnaturally on the floor, face down. He was not breathing.

"A child," Klaus said quietly.

"He's not moving," Mint said. She walked forward slowly, her eyes raking across the boy's body as she went. "Elroy shoved a dead kid into a box. That's all kinds of wrong."

Rue rested his chin in his hand and regarded the boy carefully. That wasn't the case, he knew that much, there was something...

"He's a doll," he said.

Mint looked over her shoulder, and Klaus looked up at him curiously. "What's that?" Klaus asked.

Rue stepped forward and took the boy by the arm, gently pulling at his wrist. "The joints don't move right," he said. "Listen, you can hear them." He demonstrated again. It was a quiet sound, a click and a whirr, audible but just barely. He looked up at Mint. "It's like the others from the atelier– a mechanical doll."

"And that," Mint said, "raises all kinds of other questions."

Klaus slid out of his seat and stepped forward, looking the boy over. Then he realized something. "Give me a moment." He shuffled off elsewhere in the cellar, and returned a few moments later with a thin mattress. He laid it out in the corner of the room and turned to Rue and Mint. "Bring him over here. We can have a better look."

Mint grimaced, but she took one arm and Rue took the other, and together they hefted the doll and moved it across the cellar, laying it flat on its back on the mattress. Klaus leaned forward and adjusted his glasses, starting to examine it more closely.

"Remarkable," he breathed. "This kind of craftsmanship would be unimaginable today. He's seamless."

"That's great," Mint said, "but why would Elroy bother making this thing?"

"Check Mel's letter."

Rue had already returned to the desk and was retrieving the letter as they spoke. He returned and handed it to Klaus, and Klaus immediately set to skimming through the rest of the text.

"It's called the Prima Doll," he said. "It's supposed to break the seal on the altar."

Mint cocked an eyebrow. "Seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to, just to design a key. So what, we take it to the altar and toss it in?"

"It's not that simple," Klaus said.

"Of course not."

"The Prima Doll isn't complete," Klaus said, scanning down the line. "She says Elroy could create the doll and the fundamental programming for it, but he had to enlist the help of his apprentices to weave the rest of the spell. When all the components are brought together, the Prima Doll should be able to break the seal."

"Does she know what we need?" Rue asked.

"She does." Klaus headed to another part of the cellar and rummaged through a stack of large papers for a moment before he returned with one of them. He laid it out on the table and weighted down the corners. "Elroy's contemporaries were the sorcerers Ginema and Yordaf. They each bound their aspect of the Prima Doll's magic to different items, and kept them hidden in their ateliers until Elroy was ready to actually use them. Elroy himself installed the Prima Doll's programming into a tiara."

"Tiara," Mint repeated. She folded her arms and looked wearily to Rue. "That's what Belle and Duke took."

"We'll have to get that back from them," Rue said. "Although we'd need to find them first."

"You can go about that," Klaus said, "or you can look into Ginema and Yordaf." He tapped the map. "I know where their ateliers are." He looked back at the letter. "And one more thing. We'll need... phantomite?" He frowned at the paper. "I've never heard of that."

"I have," Mint said. "It's mage ore. Magicians used to use it like crazy when they were making personal weapons and jewelry. It catalyzes magic." She flipped one of her rings into her hand. "My Dual Haloes, for instance, have a phantomite core."

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to melt those down for us?"

"You're hysterical," she said darkly.

"I'll have to look into that, then," Klaus said. "In the meantime, as I said, I can point you to the ateliers." Which he did, tracing along the map before coming to a stop at one of the larger islands on the southern curve of the archipelago. "Ginema worked here, in the Gamul Forest. You'll need a boat to get there, of course. A few Caronans have private vessels, if you ask around–"

"Don't worry about," Mint said. "I know where to get a boat."

"Well that simplifies things a great deal." He then moved back to the map, up to Carona. "Now, Yordaf." He paused for thought. "Sorcerer Yordaf actually kept his atelier right in Old Carona, buried under the cathedral."

"Also simple," Mint said. She nodded to Rue. "Let's split up."

He looked at her curiously. "What? Why?"

"S'obvious, isn't it?" She walked up to the map and looked it over. "We both look for whatever we need and we'll cut our time in half." She grinned. "You realize how close we are to getting this Relic, right? All that stands between us and unimaginable power is one stupid doll."

Klaus shrugged. "Sound logic."

Rue considered, then nodded. "All right," he said finally. "You already know where to get the boat. I'll stay here and head to Old Carona."

"My thoughts exactly." She tugged at one side of the map. "Can I have this? You know, to show him where we're going."

"Of course," Klaus said.

"Fantastic." Mint yanked on the edge of the map, rolled it back up, and tucked it under her arm. "Is there anything else I should know?"

Klaus thought for a moment. "Yes," he said finally. "The Gamul Forest is inhabited by the Gamulian tribe. Ginema's atelier was built near the coast, and their society is purely arboreal, so you _shouldn't_ see them, but if you happen to run across them... just don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't run across them."

"O-okay..." she said slowly. "I'll, uh, bear that in mind." She nodded to Klaus and Rue. "If that's everything?" Neither of them spoke up. "Then I'm off. I'll see you later."

"Best of luck," Klaus said.

"Be careful," Rue added.

Mint waved and headed back upstairs. Klaus turned his attention to Rue.

"I should probably mention this to you now," he said. "When I was doing my excavation work in Old Carona, the cathedral was always considered off-limits and highly dangerous."

"Did it collapse?"

"On the contrary," Klaus said. "The few people with permission to go inside said it was pristine. I never went in myself, of course. Even the few who were authorized entry only did so once or twice. They said it felt... wrong."

Rue tilted his head. "How so?"

"They could never explain more than that." Klaus pushed himself out of the chair, balancing with the table. "What I would suggest is, before you go, to go to the town church – the building on top of the harbor gate. Speak with Pastor Doyle. He knows more about the cathedral than I do."

Rue felt a curious crawling sensation under his skin. "I see," he said. "Thank you, Doctor."

"And please be careful," Klaus added. "I know you– both of you– can handle yourselves, but–"

"We'll be fine," Rue said, and gave Klaus a faint smile. "Don't worry about us, sir."

"I will anyway."

Rue headed back to the stairs, stopping just before he ascended. He looked over his shoulder, to Klaus poring over Mel's letter, then, slowly, to the Prima Doll, laid out lifelessly on the mattress. Then he headed upstairs.

Elena was there.

"Morning, Rue!" she said brightly.

"Hey, Elena," he said.

"Did you see Terence this morning? He came into town to finish his shopping. He must be doing good for Mel to let him come on his own!"

"He is," Rue said. "He came by to see me."

"Oh, that's so nice." She looked at him curiously. "Are you two doing something? I just Mint rush out of here."

"Your dad's got us on some important work," he said.

"Oh." She looked a bit crestfallen.

"What's wrong?"

"I was kinda hoping I could maybe kind of hang out with you two." She spoke quickly, somewhat blurring the words into each other. "I haven't really gotten to thank Mint for helping me a few days ago and now you helped Terence and I want to do something special and it's such a nice day out..."

"I'm sorry," he said. "We've both got something to– it's okay," he said quickly. "We shouldn't be gone too long. We can do something this evening. All right?"

She nodded, but didn't look entirely convinced.

"I promise," Rue said. "Now I've got to get going so I can be back in time, okay?"

"M'kay."

"Okay," he said, trying to sound authoritative and confident. "I'll see you tonight, Elena."

She nodded without speaking, and he moved past her. He felt a little niggling guilt about it, but it couldn't be helped; Mint was right. They were too close to stop or be distracted. And with any luck he was right, too, and they would be back in time for him to keep his promise.

In the meantime, he had liturgical matters to attend to.

. .

In the meantime, Mint was making her way through Carona Forest at a double-quick pace. She came upon the little side path and turned off; she had to slow down as she made her way through the less traveled route, but she remembered coming through here before and heading back was easy enough.

After a few minutes she emerged into sunlight. The path ahead of her wound downward, merging into the grassy field which itself eventually merged into the water of the ocean. It was early yet, and the water cast off a powerful, dancing light as the sun reflected off its surface. Mint actually had to stop for a moment to allow her eyes to adjust.

From somewhere at the end of the path, she heard a high-pitched barking sound, and looked down.

"Hey, Johnny Wolf!" she called. She proceeded down the pathway and stopped right at the end, where she leaned down and scratched the little dog behind his ears. Johnny Wolf responded by licking her hand.

"Johnny Wolf!" another voice called. "You guarding the camp?"

Johnny Wolf's ears perked up and he turned around, barking in the direction of the second voice. He took off running back down the path, and Mint followed his trajectory until the little dog came to a stop, sitting down heavily and proudly at Rod's side. Rod reached down to pet him, then looked up to Mint.

"Well," he said. "Hello again."

"Hey," Mint said. "I got a favor to ask."

"Not much for conversation today, are you?" he asked, but he had a good-humored smile on his lips. "Go on."

She crossed the field to approach him and held up the map. "I need a lift," she said, indicating the island that Klaus had shown her. "Can I borrow your boat?"

Rod stiffened.

"Excuse me?" he asked quietly. "May you borrow my _what_?"

Mint lowered the map. "Boat," she repeated. "Seafaring vessel. Thing that goes on water. _The thing you used to drive us over here_."

"_She_," Rod said, "is not a _boat_. Don't _ever_ refer to my baby as a _boat_."

"Whatever," Mint said. "Point is, I need a ride over water and your not-boat is probably the best way to go about it."

Rod crossed his arms. "She is _certainly_ the best way to go about it," he said. "But of course you don't imagine I'll let you go for free?"

"Eh, I tried," she said. But, she reasoned, she was going to be filthy rich in a matter of days, when they broke the seal and dug up the Relic; parting with a few coins now would be more than worth the inevitable reward. She reached for her coin-purse. "What do you want?"

"Put that away," Rod said. "I don't want money."

Mint stopped and looked at him, slowly, carefully. "Really," she said.

"Really," he responded. He gave Johnny Wolf one last pat on the head, swiped the map from Mint's hands, then turned around and headed toward the opposite side of the fields, raising his hand and indicating that Mint should follow. She did so warily, keeping her distance, as he continued to speak. "Your story last night... I didn't realize you had that in you. Got my heart pumping, you know?"

He approached the edge of the field, where the rocky walls formed a shallow cliff leading up the forest. As Mint continued to walk, she realized that there was something there. The rock's jutted at an odd angle, and when she moved fully past it she saw that they opened into a broad, low-ceilinged cave. When Rod walked in, he had to duck slightly to keep from scraping his head against the rocks.

"It's rare to find somebody so hotly passionate about what they're doing," Rod said. He only needed to step a few feet into the cave before he reached a standing rack. He folded up the map and slipped it onto one of the shelves, and in exchange pulled two objects off of it. When he returned to sunlight, Mint realized that they were short swords– fine but somewhat broad blades, ideal for sliding between ribs.

"I'm not sure I approve of this," Mint said.

Rod laughed. "Relax!" he said. "I want to fight you."

"You want to what."

He laughed again, more heartily. "I don't think I properly introduced myself," he said. He pointed one of the swords toward Mint, resting the other blade flat on his shoulder. "I am Rod the Blade Star, swordsman and master weapon smith! And I challenge you, Mint, to a duel of heart!"

She stared at him for a few seconds. "I... don't know what that means."

"It's simple," he said. "A warrior's heart burns brightest when they fight for what they believe you. I believe in my weapons, in my art. You believe in your pursuits. I assume this little trip is to find what you've come here looking for?"

"You assume right."

"Then you will fight with your all. You will refuse to let me standing your way. Your heart sparked in your words last night. I want to see what it can do."

Mint looked at him.

He was serious.

She smiled.

_Fine._

She reached behind her and removed one of the rings. They gleamed brilliant gold, their power ignited, and the magic surged through her veins. She had to bite back a manic laugh as it wrapped around and through her. "This is a weird way to make friends," she said, "but yeah, all right. Let's fight."

Rod waited a few seconds, watching Mint carefully, and then suddenly snapped into action. He shot forward, faster than Mint had expect him to, and the silver blade was singing through the air. She barely ducked before it struck against her head, and had to throw herself back when the second blade came whipping through the air just behind it.

She skidded against the grass, tried to gather herself, but Rod gave her no quarter. He lashed out again, and Mint just managed to raise one of her rings and catch the blade with it before it made contact. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the other blade driving toward her chest and wrenched the ring, taking the sword – and Rod's arm – and Rod – with it. He twisted his way out easily, but it was enough to throw off his aim, and sword went wide, missing her by appreciable inches.

She yanked herself away and danced back, quickly assessing the field. She didn't have time to do any proper spellcasting, Rod was simply too fast for her, but–

She slammed the Dual Halos against each other. The gold spark ignited and flared, unleashing a blinding light immediately around Mint. It was hers to command, though; she twisted the light itself away from her, bright but not debilitating, and threw herself forward while Rod had to take a step back, shielding his eyes from the nova.

She whipped one of the rings forward. He snapped his arm over and tilted his blade, sliding the sword into the ring and yanking it toward himself. Mint was thrown off her feet, and before she could fully react – to counter, or even to let go of the halo – Rod brought his other arm around and slammed the flat of the blade against the side of her head.

She let go of the ring and hit the ground, dazed.

"How the– _hell_– did you–"

"You put your all into an attack," Rod said, "but you telegraph too much. Even the blind know you're coming."

He flipped the ring down, looping it around his arm, and swung the other blade down toward Mint. She shoved off and rolled to the side, and the blade sank into the earth where she had been lying. Rod yanked it back and turned to face her as Mint scrambled back to her feet.

"Is that all?" Rod asked.

Mint wanted to say yes. He had stolen one of the Dual Halos, and she needed both of them to take full advantage of their magic; the two of them together were worth far more than both of them separated.

But her passage to the Relic was on the line here. She wasn't giving that up.

And Rod was giving her an opportunity.

She felt into the earth beneath his feet and threw out her arms, the remaining halo leaving a trail of light in its wake. The earth shifted and groaned and buckled. It wasn't much, but it didn't need to be; Rod's stance was immediately compromised, he was taken by surprise, and Mint tied some of her own magic energy to the ring and hurled it at Rod.

He brought the sword back up and hooked it inside the ring before it could hit him, but Mint had been counting on that. She gripped the other end of the thread of magic and yanked back, hooking the end of the ring under the hilt of the sword. Rod cried out in surprise, his grip loosened, and the sword was yanked out of his hand. Mint caught the halo as it returned to her, and the sword fell uselessly to the ground with a dull _thud_. She flipped the ring over her hand.

"No," she said. She caught the ring in her hand and threw herself at Rod again. One ring wasn't nearly as good as two, but she could still make use of it.

She was channeling energy again, drawing out the air and twisting threads to generate heat. She held the ring in front of her and forced the magic through its metal, and the ring exploded into a halo of flame. She slashed with it, striking down, sideways, forward, but Rod was too fast for her, easily dancing out of range of her wild blows. She stopped, held the ring out in front of her, and with another burst of force she severed her connection with the flame and shoved it away from her, sending a broad scythe of fire lancing through the air.

She looked up to see if it had hit Rod only to watch it strike the far end of the field, dissipating against the stone wall. She almost wheeled, searching for where Rod had gone, when something slammed into her back and sent her crashing into the ground. Something yanked the second halo out of her hand, and she forced herself to flip onto her back.

Rod stood there, both of the Dual Halos in the crook of his elbow. He smiled. "As I said, you telegraph."

He sheathed his remaining blade and reached down. Mint glowered at him, but still took his hand. He helped her to her feet, and once she was standing he removed the rings and handed them back to her.

"A bit clumsy," he said, "but you're still young. You have good instincts."

"So what now?" she grumbled, dusting herself off. "You're not gonna give me a ride on your thing that isn't a boat?"

He laughed. "No," he said, "I'll take you. I didn't expect you to win, but I needed to feel the fire of your heart. You want this badly enough? Let's go."

She stared at him. "What, seriously?"

"Seriously."

She shouted in triumph.

"Ah," Rod added. "On condition."

Mint stopped and settled, suddenly sober. "Wh-what's that?"

"My baby," he said. "I'm going to take you to that island, and by the time I bring you back I expect you to have learned her right and proper name."

Mint exhaled, flooded with relief. "I can do that."

"We'll see." He turned and headed back to the cave, picking up the discarded sword in the process. "I'll need a bit to get her warmed up. Come back in ten, fifteen minutes, we'll be ready to go."

Mint nodded. She checked herself quickly for any lasting damage – nothing serious, she was just sore – and decided to head back up the pathway and make a pit stop back in Carona. She would probably be gone most of the day, she realized. She should probably pack a lunch.


	15. Ginema's Folly

**Fifteen || Ginema's Folly**

* * *

Mint ran into Mira when she returned to town, and when she told Mira what she was intending to do the older woman offered to put together a small meal out of the leftovers from her own dinner the previous night, and without asking Mint's opinion on the matter created a second package for the boatman.

"He'll be gone just as long as you will, after all," she said, handing her both of the packed lunches. "Who did you find, exactly?"

"Guy named Rod," Mint said. "He's the one who got me over here in the first place."

"Rod's in town?" Mira asked. "I'll have to see him before he leaves again... Send him my regards, could you, Mint? Consider it payment for lunch."

"Yeah, sure."

At which point she headed right back out and made her way through the forest again, down the path, out to the field, and came to a halt.

She had been impressed the first time she had seen it, and seeing it again, she was still impressed. Sitting on the water was a vehicle that could loosely be described as a pontoon boat, in that the bulk of its forward weight had to be distributed by two pontoons, and that was about where the comparison ended. Or perhaps it could be called a supremely advanced kayak; the top of its profile was flat and low to the water, the bottom broad and flared outward, the seats set into individual depressions; the largest in the front, where all of the equipment rested, and two smaller passenger seats in the back.

But she only settled on pontoons and kayaks because there was very little else to compare it to. The vehicle was unique; sleek, red, its hull built entirely out of metal. On the front bow, just barely visible against the sun's glare against the water, were five points of light, glowing like embers and giving off a low and not unpleasant humming noise.

Rod had briefly described how the vehicle worked, when she had first been caught gaping at it; the points of light were actually cannon orbs, glass balls that had been thoroughly suffused with magical energy. The boat – or not-boat, or whatever it was – probably would not have been able to support its own weight very well otherwise, but the sorcerous drive system was designed to draw energy from the cannon orbs, using that to both propel itself through its impressive aft engines and to provide a small amount of lift, counteracting its weight and allowing it to float effortlessly on the water. It also helped in moving it off the ground; the furrow running from the cave out to the water was much shallower than it should have been, considering the size and weight of the thing.

Rod himself was standing nearby, making sure his fire pit was thoroughly doused, giving last instructions to Johnny Wolf. "If anybody tries to steal my weapons," he said, "bite them. Bite them and _never stop_."

"I think you're good, Rod," Mint called. She made her way down the path and approached him, and Rod stood up fully.

"You're ready?" he asked.

"I'm ready," she said, and held up one of the bags. "Present from Mira."

His face lit up, and he snapped the package from Mint with far too much enthusiasm.

"I haven't even gotten to say hello yet," he said, sighing. "She's too good to me."

"I don't doubt that," Mint said cheerfully, and stepped past Rod. "Now c'mon, the sooner we leave the sooner–"

"Hold on," Rod said. "Our other part of the deal."

Mint paused and looked at him. "You mean about your boat?"

"_She is not a boat!_" Rod stormed up to the hull of the vessel and threw his arms up. "This is an ACV, a machine from the time when magicians ruled the world. You won't find another like her in this lifetime. This!" And he spun to face her. "Is my baby! The Pulsar-inferno Typhoon Omega!"

He stood there like he was waiting for applause.

"Right, right," Mint said. "Scarlet Excellent Typhoon Gamma. Got it."

He lowered his arms. "Now you're messing with me."

"Sure am."

"You're lucky Mira sent you along with food or I'd toss you out," he grumbled. "Come on, let's go."

. .

Mint had experienced the power of the not-boat before, but coming back to it she was still impressed. She had ridden in other seafaring vessels before, and often, but the Pulsar-inferno Typhoon Omega, contrary to its unwieldy name, sliced through the ocean like a knife. She skirted over the waves with hardly a ripple for the passengers, her sides perfectly tuned to keep the ocean spray to a minimum, and other than being a smooth and dry ride she was _fast_. From what Mint had understood, booking a ride to Carona via regular channels would have gotten her there anywhere between three and five days, assuming no significant delays. Rod's ride, whatever he wanted to call it, had left at sunrise and arrived before sundown on the same day.

The island Mint wanted to get to was much closer than the shore of the mainland, and what probably would have been at least half a day's sailing turned into a breezy cruise. It took the better part of two hours, but at that rate Mint would probably be back in time to have a proper lunch.

The island she was gunning for was obvious on the approach; though many of the larger islands on the archipelago had appreciable tree life and foliage, Gamul Forest was immense and unusually tall. It might have been the fertility of the island – it was fairly close to the volcano – but Mint was willing to bet that, since a wizard had lived there, the nature of the forest might not have been entirely... natural.

Mint was sitting in the back seat of the vehicle, with Rod piloting up front, adjusting various knobs and dials and steering the craft. As they approached the island, he was starting to slow down, and the wind whipping past was no longer quite so intense. When Mint felt they had slowed enough, she started shouting up to the front. "East side!"

"Got it!" Rod called back, and he twisted the wheel, easing the ACV to the side. They skirted the edge of the island, Rod gently reducing their speed until the wind no longer roared and the sorcerous drive was reduced to a low purr. The vehicle glided easily over the water, up along the coast, until the island's edge dipped toward the water again and turned to pale, sandy beach. Mint checked her directions, recalled what Klaus had said, and raised her hand.

"We're here!"

Rod eased back on the accelerator until they drifted to a lazy stop. He adjusted a few more devices up front, pulled the steering wheel to the side, and the Pulsar-inferno Typhoon Omega eased over and slid across the sand. When she was mostly on land, he cut the power tot he sorcerous drive, and she settled into the sand with a dull _crunch_.

Mint wriggled out of the seat and vaulted over the edge of the hull, onto the beach. She made it a few paces away, stretching out her joints, and turned to face Rod.

"You hanging back?" she asked.

"I think you have it from here," he said. "Do whatever it is you need to do. I'll be waiting for you.." To make a point, he leaned back in the cockpit and tore open the bag lunch. Mint left him to his devices, turned toward the forest, and started walking.

Despite what Klaus had said about Ginema building his atelier in the thinner part of the woods, she found herself almost immediately drenched in shadow from the massive, towering canopy of the trees. She couldn't tell if this was the 'thin' part of the forest or not; it all looked so enormous that comparative comparison, especially while she was walking through it, was all but impossible.

Fortunately, she didn't need to worry about it. As her eyes adjusted to the daytime gloom, she saw something much brighter up ahead, a clearing where the sun shone through.

_That has to be it_, she thought, and started to walk just a little bit faster. This would be a cakewalk; enter the atelier, look for something magical, get out and get back to town. She would probably beat Rue back by a long shot– not that it was a competition, of course.

But she would still be faster.

She emerged into the clearing, drew in a deep breath, grinned to herself, and then released the whole thing in a hacking expulsion that made her feel like she had been punched in the gut.

"Oh no way," she moaned. "Come on, come _on_!"

The clearing was worse than empty.

The vast majority of open space was layered with neatly arranged bricks, spreading out in a pattern that suggested that, once upon a time, they had served as a floor, and that once upon a time had been a long, long time ago. A few sad little half-pillars jutted out, providing a skeleton of a support structure, and crumbling walls suggested what had once been rooms. But the whole tableau was scattered and broken; the floor stones were cracked and dirty, grass had growing green and strong through the grout and even through some of the stones, heavy vines choked the old memories of the walls. One of the pillars was even split in half, part of it still standing stone and plaster, the other torn away as a relatively young but still rather large tree erupted toward the sky.

Tentatively, Mint stepped forward, reaching out for the nearest pillar. She touched it, closed her eyes, felt outward for the twining of magical energy. Maybe it was just an old, crumbling building. Maybe the atelier was further in, standing perfect and pristine, and Ginema's part of the Prima Doll was sitting on a neat little pillow on a neat little pedestal just waiting for an ardent adventurer like herself to come retrieve it and put it to use, now that its original creator had croaked.

She knew it was foolish, wishful thinking before she even tried to see the lingering magic, but looking outward confirmed her suspicions; the area was alight with the memory of old spells, their edges frayed and tattered and unraveling or unwoven altogether. There was a great deal of magic here, or had once been; far too much to be a random settlement.

This was the atelier, all right. Or had been.

Mint ran her hand through her hair and took in a deep, calming breath. _Okay_, she told herself. So it looked like the whole thing had been annihilated. That didn't mean anything. Magician ateliers decayed over time, and got destroyed by outside forces, and she had seen enough collapsed ateliers to know that when a magician had something important they wanted to keep safe, they would hide it somewhere– hidden rooms or secret passages. Maybe under the floor.

She made her way to the middle of the atelier's remains and knelt down. She pressed her hand against the floor, closed her eyes, concentrated. She was searching for magic– it suffused the air around her, but she was looking for something that was still tightly woven together. She concentrated until it was almost a physical effort, feeling down and outward. She stayed like that for what felt like several minutes, and gave up only after the space behind her temples became home to a throbbing pain.

No good. Whatever she was looking for was gone.

She opened her eyes. Her vision was a little watery from the effort; she blinked several times to try and clear her vision, rubbed the rest of it away. That was a bust. She might actually have to search the forest now – not exactly a small scope – and that was assuming that whoever had destroyed the atelier hadn't taken whatever it was she was looking for.

Then she felt a hollow spot.

It was right on the periphery of concentration, a little area beneath the stone her retreating senses registered as unusually open. There was no magic there, which in itself was strange. A blackout zone?

Her heart pounded, and she scrambled forward on her hands and knees. It was just a few feet ahead, and as soon as she was on top of it, it seemed almost obvious. A two-by-two square of stones lay beneath her hands, the edges of them filed down a little more than the ones around them. The grass sprouting up between the stones obfuscated it somewhat, but she yanked out a few clumps of grass and sure enough, there was a groove on the edge of the stone. She worked her fingers into the opening and jiggled the stone; it was loose. She tried pulling up on it to yank it free. It moved under her assault, but even though it was loose, it was not coming free.

She brought one of the rings to her hand, suffused it with energy, and tapped it on top of the stone. The lingering magic sitting just beneath the rock knotted, and Mint tied the magic strand to the edge of the ring. Then, with another sharp yank backward, she snapped the ring back, commanded the earth to shift, and the stone came away. She did the same with the other three until they were all pulled free and packed earth beneath them was visible.

Then she got tired of using her hands, grasped the net of magic she had already created, and willed it upward. The dirt exploded out and away, sending a shower of compacted earth across the atelier floor. Beneath it was a layer of concrete, and in the middle of that concrete was a simple door– no spells, no puzzle locks, just an indentation and the cut edges of a little trap door. She yanked it open with surprisingly little resistance and peered inside. A dark box, very old, but also very clean. Magic had sealed it against the elements; whatever was inside was sure to be flawless.

She raised the ring and willed it to shine, and using that illumination she pressed herself closer to the opening, twisting this way and that to try and let in the light. It was a shallow depression, and she could see something inside– just one thing, and it wasn't moving. Experimentally, she reached in, caught its edge, and lifted it back out.

A book.

She snuffed the light on her ring, lay it next to her, and stared at the book. Leather-bound, a little ribbon on the side serving as a classy bookmark, and utterly unremarkable in every other way. She could tell straightaway that it was not what she was looking for; there was no innate magic in the book, it had been protected by the spells on its hiding place.

Still, it had been protected for a reason. She flipped it open.

At first she was disappointed, as she was met immediately with the curving, looping script that magicians had adopted. She had always been frustrated by magician script; it was a fabricated language, an over-complicated script and structure that was used as code to hide contents that were, when untangled, just archaic English. It had been done – so she had been told – so the magicians could be assured that their works would be unreadable by common man; magicians had gone to great lengths to make sure that, when all was said and done, it made absolutely no goddamn sense.

She was just about resolved to take it back to Klaus and have him translate it – it would be far easier to look through the book than look through the forest, after all – when she flipped ahead at random and realized that at some point along the way Ginema had apparently gotten tired of writing in the magician's script shifted to perfectly legible English.

She skimmed the book and saw that he switched between the two freely; some passages and notes Mint found utterly undecipherable, but most of the book seemed to actually be a personal diary. She went back to the beginning and started thumbing through, scanning the pages for anything interesting before moving on.

Most of it was inane, but there were a few passages that she started to zero in on.

About a third of the way through, Ginema started talking about Elroy and their working relationship. He mentioned taking his research out to Gamul Forest and building his atelier where nobody could bother him, except apparently somebody had bothered him because he made mention of a tribe of small humanoids that already lived out there. She continued scanning until she came upon another passage.

"_I've found the ideal place to establish my atelier,"_ it read (more or less; the grammar structure and word use was old, but Mint had enough experience rummaging through archaic text to understand it easily). _"I've cleared land a short way off the main shoreline; far enough that nobody will be able to see my atelier, close enough that restoring my supplies will be easy. I've attempted to enlist the aid of the locals to help do the physical aspect of the building, but they don't seem particularly keen on my setting up on their land and have asked me – quite rudely – to leave. I will attempt to reason with them when I return with supplies._

Next page: _"The language barrier is making cooperation more difficult than I had anticipated. However, I've deciphered most of their communication and am confident I can reach an agreement and enlist their aid."_

And then two pages later: _"Learned how to self-treat a spear wound today."_

He went on. At some point he gave up reasoning with the locals and headed elsewhere, returning to the continent with another tribe – filched from a continent to the south, apparently – who were more willing to listen to reason. He bought their services to help built the atelier, and then after that was done paid them by giving them the forest, going so far as to refer to them as Gamulians. The other tribe disapproved of this, as they happened to still be living there. Ginema bowed out of the tribal politics and let them find a peaceable solution. The group he brought into the forest – the Gamulians - did so by slaughtering the tribe that had already lived there.

"Wow," Mint said. "This guy's kind of an ass."

She carried on.

He made note of Elroy's research; that Elroy had found the altar; that Elroy had realized it contained Valen's Relic; that Elroy had apparently decided the most efficient way of opening the seal was to forge a mechanical towheaded child because of course it was.

"_He's given me specific instructions on the nature of the spells that must be woven,"_ Ginema wrote. _"This is highly delicate work and requires a bit of interpretation on my end, but Elroy, of course, knew I would be perfect for such fragile spellcraft. I've decided to weave the spells into a pair of earrings, for transfer to the doll when it is ready."_

Earrings didn't strike her as the ideal accessory for a construct that was fashioned to look like a young boy, but, now that she was thinking of it, neither did a tiara. They must have just been having fun playing dress-up at some point. Mint couldn't help but wonder what the other spell component was that Rue was looking for and hoped it was ridiculous.

As she neared the end of the recorded diary, where the ribbon marked the final written page, the entries started to get interesting again.

"_The Gamulians are acting up. I think they've heard of what we're after and want a piece of the prize."_

"_Actually I think they might just the prize period."_

"_I looked outside this morning and saw several Gamulian scouts watching the atelier. They weren't even trying to be subtle about it. They want me to know they're watching."_

"_I built a whale today."_

Mint had to flip back to that page just to make sure she was reading it properly, and gave it another look.

"_I built a whale today."_

Yes, that is exactly what it said.

"_The guardian has been programmed to protect the atelier. The tribe has already started to steer clear of the atelier. Things are working so well that I've also assigned the guardian to keep the earrings safe. Nobody will be able to retrieve them while it's watching over them. I truly am a genius."_

"And full of yourself," Mint grumbled.

A few pages here and there, a few more notes, then:

"_The Gamulians attempted to attack, but the guardian was far too powerful. Unfortunately, they had a major advantage in numbers and managed to deal some injury to the guardian. Fortunately, the guardian is properly equipped with self-recovery and will be right as rain within the hour. Spears to the head can't slow it down!"_

The next page was loaded down with hasty scribbles, almost illegible:

"_guardians programming bloc damaged by spearhead half of atelier collapsed earrings gone why did I make that stupid thing"_

"You got me," Mint said.

"_Sealed off as much as I can. guardian injured me when it fled I've healed what I can don't have the strength to fortify my defenses"_

The ribbon was waiting on the other side of the page. Mint turned it over.

"_I need food. I'm going to search the forest."_

End.

She thumbed through the rest of the pages, seeing if Ginema had left any other notes or observations or maybe something that would actually be helpful, but the rest of the diary was blank. She slammed the book shut, looked at it for a moment, and then tossed it haphazardly back into the hole she had dragged it up from.

So the magician was a moron who almost got eaten by his own guardian. Fantastic.

But that gave her some context. The guardian had been looking over the earrings, and the earrings had disappeared when it went crazy. That meant that either the guardian or the Gamulians had stolen it. The guardian had been some kind of construct – she assumed it was the whale Ginema had built – so it wasn't likely to have taken the earrings itself, assuming it had even survived the last few hundred years, but the Gamulians might have. There was no guarantee they still had them, of course, but it was looking like her best bet.

So her best bet was the civilization that Klaus had explicitly warned her not to go near.

Also fantastic.

She stood up and looked into the trees. Probably not the best idea – definitely not the best idea – but what else was she going to do? Turn around, go home, shrug her shoulders? Sorry, Klaus, I was too chicken to go into the forest and look for a pair of earrings, but that's okay, I didn't need limitless power anyway!

Not likely.

She started off into the forest and was little ways beyond the tree line when a strange sound caught her ears.

Mint stopped, listening intently. It was an odd noise, faintly pulsing, faintly humming. It reminded her, bizarrely, of Rod's not-boat and the peculiar purr of its sorcerous drive, but it wasn't quite so concentrated. It was also accompanied by another sound, like the blades of a boat propeller lifted out of the water. She closed her eyes and listened as the noise grew louder, and then recognized that it was coming from behind her. From the atelier.

She turned.

Behind her, hovering over the shattered atelier, was some kind of stone construct, a hovering golem. Its central body was a thick disc laid on its side, with a smoothed down top and bottom. From this central disc came appendages; two massive, dangling arms, connected awkwardly to the sides, and a roughly cut piece attached to the front that was probably meant to function as some kind of head. From the back were two additional, shallow protrusions, both bearing a thick-bladed propeller, both alight with a pale orange aura.

For a moment, she wondered if that was the guardian Ginema had referred to. Then her eyes traveled just a little higher, and she gaped.

Standing on the back of the creature, her dark dress standing in striking contrast to platinum blonde hair, was Belle.

"You gotta be kidding me," Mint mumbled.

But she continued to watch, and as she watched she put together the rest of the image. Belle stood on the back of the hovering stone beast, directing its movements, and she was zeroing right in on where Mint had been only moments before. As Mint watched, Belle made a motion with her hand, and the stone beast started to sink, its broad hands reaching toward the ground. It caught itself and slowed its descent, settling gently on the ground. At another motion from Belle, the engines cut off and the beast fell silent, and Belle vaulted off its back and headed immediately for the diary.

_She followed me_, Mint realized. _That snake followed me!_

Belle must have been waiting for Mint to leave to take a look at the diary herself. Mint had half a mind to just leave her to it – the book was worthless, and Belle would have just as much of a problem searching through the forest to find the earrings – but then she looked over to the stone golem. The had no idea what it was supposed to be, but Belle was clearly using it for transportation. She would be able to cover much more ground on her weird hovering rock monster than Mint would just by walking.

So she needed to steal it.

Mint made her way back to the edge of the tree line and started walking, hugging the edge of the clearing but making sure she kept to the shadows. She didn't need to exercise much stealth; Belle was busying herself looking through the book. When Mint was sure she was sufficiently distracted, she slipped out of the cover of the trees and ran straight for the golem. She slowed down as she got near, half expecting it to react to her, but it did no such thing; it was lifeless without a pilot.

She moved up along its side reached out, working the tips of her fingers into the grooves along its arm. When she had a hold, she started pulling, working her way up the rocky appendage – foothold, handhold, other hand, other foot, easy enough – and it wasn't long before she had her hands on the top of its shoulder and she was pulling herself up and onto the flat of its back.

The back, she saw, was etched with runes and arrays. She crouched and kept herself low as she worked toward the middle of the machine's back, occasionally shooting a glance over the side of its body to see if Belle had noticed anything. Reassured, Mint finally settled in the middle of the thing's back and turned to face its head. She traced her hand along the array lines, across the runes. She could feel the magic coiled inside the thing, but when she tried to reach for it she couldn't quite grasp it– contained, then. Maybe the runes were a spell.

She tried that, following along the runes and whispering the syllables as they were write across the beast's back. She reached the end of the script, spoke the last, and steeled herself.

Nothing happened.

She waited a few more seconds, but the rock beast remained unmoving, oblivious to her presence. She thwacked it with her palm. She stood up and slammed her foot against its back. Still nothing.

"C'mon," she hissed. "How do you work?"

"It doesn't respond to half-wits."

Mint looked up and froze.

Belle hoisted herself up onto the creature's rock muzzle and balanced on its head, giving Mint a long, narrowed glare. "What, exactly, are you trying to accomplish?" she asked.

"I could ask you the same," Mint said sharply. "Are you stalking me?"

Belle snorted. "Like I'd get anywhere if I followed your example," she said.

"You got here, didn't you?"

"For all the good it's done." She held up her hand – and, with it, Ginema's diary – and waved it in the air. "This is less than useless. Although I imagine you're used to that."

Mint bristled. "What did you think you'd find here, then?"

"Something better than some moron's broken building," Belle said. "And somebody trying to steal the Hexagon."

"The Hexagon?"

"You know, _the thing you're standing on_?"

Mint looked down. "This isn't a hex–"

Something cracked against the side of her head. She staggered, tried to catch her balance, almost slipped off the edge of the creature. She barely righted herself in time to look up and see Belle stride back to the creature's center, picking up the book from where it had fallen.

"I didn't name it," Belle said simply. "And I'd like you to get off."

"Not likely, you old witch."

"Let me rephrase; _you're getting off_."

She raised her hand and then pulled down, trailing behind her a string of bright heat. Belle flicked her wrist and pointed at Mint, and the orbs of light followed, twisting around each other before leaping along the path she had directed.

Mint ducked back and down, but she was already right on the edge of the rock beast and there was simply no more room for her. Her foot slipped, she lost her purchase, and she went crashing down, arms flailing wildly to find something to grip. Her fingers dug into the thin grooves along its side, and she hung there, her legs dangling off the edge, her chest throbbing from how she had landed.

Belle walked up to her and knelt down. "Let go," she snapped. "It's not _that_ far to fall."

Mint gritted her teeth and shook her head. "Not that easy," she growled.

So Belle lay down the book, reached to her belt, and unsheathed a short dagger. "You don't really want me to convince you," she said.

That was true.

Mint released her hold and fell, landing awkwardly on her feet. From above, she could hear the hum of the Hexagon powering up again, and saw the blaze of its engines ignite. She had to be fast.

She ran back toward its arm, which was slowly pulling away from the ground, and lunged. She caught the edge of the rocky surface and climbed a short way up. The Hexagon suddenly wrenched upward, and Mint tightened her grip and willed the wind to part around her. There wasn't sufficient time to make a proper spell, but it was enough that the sudden rush didn't push her off the Hexagon's arm, and when it stopped moving she continued her upward climb, until she crested over the Hexagon's shoulder and was staring at Belle's boots.

She wrapped one arm as best she could around the Hexagon's, used the other to grab one of her rings, and met Belle's eyes just as the older woman turned her focus away from keeping the Hexagon in the air and down to Mint.

Mint grinned and brought the ring up in front of her.

"You're kidding me," Belle said.

"Nope," Mint replied, and with a charge through the halo the air in front of her compressed, then exploded in a burst of gale force. Belle thrust her hand out and twisted the air directly before her, creating a rough barrier, but Mint was already yanking herself full onto the Hexagon's back and throwing herself bodily at Belle.

They hit the stone hide of the Hexagon, and the machine bucked, the front end tilting upward briefly before settling back the way it had been. The two women had slid part of the way toward the back, almost off the Hexagon entirely, before it managed to right itself.

"What the hell are you doing!" Belle yelled.

"I'm stealing your levitating golem thing," Mint said. "I thought that was obvious! Dang, age does do terrible things to the–"

Belle's fist met Mint's jaw, and Mint yelped and threw herself back, the coppery taste of blood filling her mouth from where she had bit her tongue. Belle was already back on her feet, bearing down on Mint, raising her arm again. Not spellcasting, though; in time with the motion, the Hexagon's arms folded up against the sides of its body, and the internal whine of its engines picked up. It bucked again, this time at Belle's command, and Mint had to flatten herself against the Hexagon's back to keep from being thrown.

She raised her head and looked over the side of the golem to see the trees starting to fall away. They were rising up now, and drifting a little to the right.

"I will _throw you_ from this thing if you don't get off," Belle snarled.

"Sure, it's only a thirty foot drop, now," Mint said. "Let me get right on that!"

"Vermin are resilient," Belle said. "You'll survive."

Mint slowly crawled to her feet. The Hexagon was listing back and forth now, dipping and rising in a ragged pattern, and Mint wasn't exactly confident that she could keep her balance through it. Belle was having no trouble adjusting, but then she was used to riding it and it was probably her fault it was tilting the way it was, anyway.

"Get off!" she barked again.

Mint brought both of her rings to her hands and was trying to determine whether she should find a way to knock Belle free or keep herself firmly planted on the Hexagon's back, but before she'd come to a decision she realized that the edge of the trees were far too close. "Belle," she said. "We need to get higher."

"There is no _we_ in this," Belle snapped. "Look, you seriously can't figure this out? Make an air cushion or something, you'll do _fine_, just–"

"Trees!"

Belle looked over her shoulder and, sure enough, there were trees.

She threw her arm out and the Hexagon tilted again, this time trying to change direction. Mint cracked the Dual Halos together and concentrated on the air pressure again, using it to suction herself to the top of the Hexagon. She wouldn't be able to move without breaking the spell, but at that moment moving seemed like an unnecessary luxury.

It was a good thing she did it, too; Belle overcompensated and tilted the Hexagon almost forty-five degrees, and it was only by virtue of her spell that Mint did not go sliding off to the ground again. Belle must have been doing something similar; she leaned into the angle, but did little else to keep herself from falling, and the Hexagon burst away and upward, swinging itself around in the opposite direction.

Mint wasn't going to fall, at least, but she was definitely starting to get sick.

"What are you doing, you crazy hag!" she yelled.

Belle fell to her knees, both palms against the Hexagon's back. "Something throwing it off," she said. "It isn't responding the way it's supposed to."

"Maybe you just can't drive."

"_You wanna try this?_"

Mint was quiet ready to volunteer when the Hexagon suddenly swung again, this time half-diving back toward the tree line. Belle raised her hands sharply, and the Hexagon tilted upward, trying to gain altitude.

"Hey, princess!" Belle shouted. "We need a boost!"

Mint concentrated on the space beneath the Hexagon and struck the Dual Halos again. The breeze changed course and intensity, turning itself into a powerful upward gale that caught the Hexagon and provided lift to its stone body, barely shoving it upward in time for it to clear the trees. Mint was rapidly realizing that it wasn't enough, though; there was something else vying for the right to manipulate the wind, and she was having difficulty fighting it down.

"We've got a problem," Mint said.

"Well it's good to see you've worked that out," Belle snapped. She looked up, peering over the side of the Hexagon and out across the canopy of the forest. "Something is disrupting the Hexagon's drive."

"And the wind," Mint said. She closed her eyes to concentrate, trying to keep them buffeted on her artificial updraft, but they were still drifting over the trees and it was becoming progressively more difficult to fight against the force that was – she could almost see it – dragging them further over the forest. Then she felt another disturbance, something arcing through her magic field, and she flattened herself against the Hexagon as a spear went whistling past them and the Hexagon itself, no longer aided by her magic, started to collapse.

The belly of the golem hit the canopy with a horrific cracking noise, tearing through branches and sending a torrent of leaves in its wake. Belle was shouting commands through the noise, and the Hexagon was trying to obey them, unfolding its arms and using its crude hands to try and catch the trees and slow their descent.

Mint kept herself flat against the Hexagon, re-structuring her standing spell to do so, and shot a glance back and forth as they fell through the trees. Their descent was violent but slow, in part due to Belle's orders to the Hexagon and in part because the increasingly powerful branches of the trees were harder to break through, and it gave Mint an opportunity to have a look around. There was more than branches and leaves passing them by.

There were wooden hutches, rope bridges, avenues of travel, platforms to rest on, walkways that spiraled around the tree trunks. She could see light within windows, small fires burning on tall torches, ropes and pulleys elaborately intertwined to help support the heavy structures.

And people, too. Short humanoids, probably not even half her height, cloaked in fur; the one she could identify the most of seemed to be wearing bear skins, the skulls brought over their heads and used as ersatz helmets. Many of them were watching the Hexagon and its occupants as it tried desperately to force itself to a stop. Many of those were holding spears.

Aiming spears.

_Crap_.

Mint focused and forced the magic outward, creating a rough barrier of whipping wind and captured twigs and leaves. The spears sailed through the air and were shattered by the barrier, which sent their remains flying away. Mint felt a little ripple of pride, and looked over her shoulder with every intention to gloat to Belle about her brilliant idea when the Hexagon came to an unexpected and powerful stop.

Mint, by fortune of already lying down on top of the Hexagon, didn't get too terribly rattled, although there was no denying that it had _hurt_ and had completely broken her concentration on the shield. She looked over her shoulder and shot a glare at Belle. "What was that?"

"How the hell should I know?" she growled.

"You're driving this thing, how could you _not_ know?"

Belle rose to her feet, shaking off the impact, and looked over the side of the Hexagon. "There's some kinda walkway here," she said. "Hexagon, up."

The engine whined, sputtered, and gave up. Belle stared at it for a moment, then jumped off the side and disappeared. Mint dispelled the magic that was keeping her attached to the Hexagon and looked up quickly. No more spears were heading in their direction, at least not from _that_ direction, and she risked looking down to where Belle had gone.

Belle was examining the side of the Hexagon. A crack had formed on the side of its body, and she was running her hand across it, brow furrowed.

"That'll need to be fixed," she muttered, standing up. "But that's no reason it shouldn't be able to fly."

Mint considered her next action carefully. "This is totally your fault," she said.

Belle whipped around and snapped her hand out, hurling a small ball of fire up at Mint. Mint ducked back, and the fireball dissipated a few feet beyond her. "I am _not_ in the mood for your bullshit right now," Belle said darkly. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder. "You're lucky. I need to find whatever's jamming the drive system and I won't have time to deal with you while I do it."

"Why not?" Mint said. She slid off the back of the Hexagon and landed next to Belle. The older woman shot her a glare, but went back to looking at the damage on the golem. Mint waited to be acknowledged again, but Belle was deep into whatever she was doing, and for some reason that left Mint deeply agitated. "I know why you're here."

"No you don't," Belle said. "_I'm_ not entirely sure why I'm out here."

"Because you just followed me, is that it?"

Belle looked up and turned her attention fully upon Mint. "If I say 'yes', will it make you feel like a big girl?"

Mint ignored her. "You trying to scoop the treasure before I can, is that it? That what happened in Elroy's atelier, too?" Mint pushed off the Hexagon and took a few steps away from Belle. "I'd really like that tiara back, by the way."

"Not likely," Belle growled. "Even if it weren't a matter of principal, _we_ got it back from the skull beast after _you_ turned tail and ran."

"You really did it, huh?" Mint grinned. "I didn't think you had it in you!"

"And I'm glad you proved unequivocally that you _don't_," Belle said. She exhaled, mumbled a few choice words under her breath, and stood up. "Nothing internal. There must be some kind of interference."

"Earrings," Mint said suddenly.

Belle looked over her shoulder. "What?"

"I'm looking for earrings."

Belle leaned against the Hexagon. "I imagine there's a reason you're telling me this."

"Because a set of earrings in the middle of a big-ass forest like this isn't gonna be easy to find," Mint said. "But I figure if we both know what we're looking for and you happen to run across them, I can just find you later and beat them back out of you."

"How sporting."

"Win-win for me, far as I'm concerned."

"Whatever." Belle pushed off the Hexagon and started to walk down the path. Then she stopped, peering down the wooden walkways, and turned on her heel, starting a fast march in the opposite direction. She had to squeeze under part of the Hexagon to get there, but she persevered and slipped past to the other side of the walkway.

Mint wondered what the point of that was until she looked down the way she had been going again.

There was movement, loud and furious, shouts and calls and a growing rumble of footsteps. They were difficult to see in the woodland shadows, but their movement gave them away; a thick line of Gamulians were charging their way down one of the spiral stairways toward Mint, their voices coming to a screaming crescendo.

She whirled and ducked under the Hexagon herself, fully prepared to follow Belle, but had only just emerged from the other side when they slammed right back into each other. Belle managed to keep her footing, but Mint staggered back until she hit the Hexagon's arm, slightly dazed from the impact. She wasn't afforded enough time to recover when Belle suddenly grabbed her arm and was dragging her across the walk. "Come on," Belle hissed. "We need to get out of here!"

Mint's head was slowly clearing, and she was able to make a bit more sense out of the proceedings. "Woah, wait," she said. "What's happening?"

"Seems they didn't appreciate my landing the Hexagon in the middle of their tree village thing," Belle said. She yanked Mint around and then shoved her forward. "Get _going_!"

Mint staggered a few steps, found her footing, and started to run, Belle's heavy footfalls thudding away behind her. She could heard the Gamulians from behind, too, their words a jumble of unintelligible shouts, and decided that perhaps Belle had a decent idea.

Not decent enough, though. The women didn't know anything about the architecture or structure of the tree-village, while the Gamulians seemed to have built the whole thing for maximum trapping efficiency. Another flood of them was coming down the opposite end of the walkway, and when they made a turn onto a side-bridge a tree from behind them suddenly opened up, pouring out another wave of the small humanoids. When they got to the other side of the bridge their only possible avenue of retreat was impossibly clogged, which was very unfortunate as, waiting for them just a short distance down the path, was yet another gaggle of Gamulians.

"Magic them!" Belle shouted.

"_You_ magic them!" Mint shouted back.

"I can't!"

"What do you mean you– oh."

Mint couldn't, either. Whatever had been resisting her when they were above the trees was now in full force down here; she could reach out and grasp the energy, but when she tried to manipulate it, the magic slipped out of her grasp or pulled away from her. It was a wonder she had managed to do any spellcraft on the way down. Three cheers for adrenaline.

Although adrenaline wasn't helping now. Whatever was disrupting her magic, it was far closer to them than before.

Mint and Belle came to a stop as the line of Gamulians lowered their spears and leveled them at just about eye height. Behind them, the thunder of their pursuers stopped and changed to shouts and jeers as the leaders of their side did the same.

And then it was a standoff. Mint and Belle were immobilized from both sides. Mint looked over the railing as best she could, but they were too high up. If she had magic at her disposal, she could cushion their fall and land them without significant damage – Belle had been right about that much – but then again, if she had magic, she could probably open a path through the Gamulians and not worry about throwing herself two storeys down to the forest floor.

The Gamulians did not seem to know what to do, either. There was chatter among their ranks, what sounded like confused conversation. Even those leveling the spears at the girls seemed to waver slightly; now that they were cornered, what came next?

Then, a single world.

"Chief."

The muttering was renewed, but this time with what sounded like affirmations. The repeated the word through the crowd, and there was a new bustling as another set of Gamulians came forward, bearing rope instead of spears.

"Great," Belle said. "Just _great_."

Mint was quiet. Her thoughts were racing now, but on a different track; escape had gone from implausible to undesirable. She had an idea.

"Don't fight it," Mint said.

Belle shot her a glare. "Are you crazy?"

The spears lowered and jabbed forward as the rope-bearers stepped closer, clearly warning the women not to move. The rope bearers got to work, grabbing Belle's hands and tying the rope around them. She resisted, but it was half-hearted; she was either curious about what Mint was thinking, or unwilling to risk having a spear shoved through her esophagus.

"Listen," Mint said. The Gamulians were tying her wrists together now, and she had to fight every instinct to kick the on in front of her right in the face. "They're taking us to the chief, right?"

Belle was wary about answering. "Right..."

"If the Gamulians have the earrings..."

"...then the leader of the tribe would be the one holding on to them." Belle exhaled through her teeth. "That almost makes sense."

"Thank you."

"Ah, but Mint."

"Yes?"

The rope bearers said something to the rest of the Gamulians. The tribe rose as one voice, doubtless agreeing with whatever was said, and then they started to surge backward, opening the path for the captives and their captors to walk.

"Even if the chief has the earrings," Belle said, "and even if we happen to get out of these ropes and take them, we still have to get through the rest of the tribe. And, as you seem to have forgotten, our magic is _kind of gone._"

Mint thought about that.

"You have no plan, do you?" Belle asked.

"Um," Mint replied.

Mint could almost hear Belle grinding her teeth.


	16. Ginema's Leviathan

**Sixteen || Ginema's Leviathan**

* * *

They were led through the tree-forts, winding their way up and down the paths and walkways, prodded constantly onward by the Gamulians. Mint was trying to make sense of where they were being taken, but the bridges and pathways were so elaborately interconnected that it set her head spinning trying to keep track of it.

"How much further can we go?" Belle hissed. "We must be halfway across the forest."

"The other half," Mint said.

Although by the time they had this exchange, they were coming upon something noteworthy.

Their escort broke and left them with only a few Gamulians, and they were taken out to what seemed like a dead end at the edge of the ramp. One of the Gamulians shouted up into the trees, and suddenly the platform shuddered and started to rise. They ascended for nearly a full minute before the platform came to a shuddering stop, and they were turned around and led out the way they had entered, but this time to a very different place.

The platform was enormous, fanning out between several trees and housing a bevy of small houses, all of them turned to face a single, surprisingly impressive bungalow. There were more Gamulians up here, of course, but their numbers seemed far more manageable when there was so much more space to maneuver. Additionally, there were far fewer spears; the Gamulians were still clearly armed, with makeshift bone-cut daggers, but it was obvious they were not an offensive contingent.

They moved out of the way as Mint and Belle were directed toward the main building. Two of their captors stepped away, guarding their backs in case they decided to run; the third moved into the building, disappearing briefly into its depths. Mint tried to crane her neck and get a better look inside, but couldn't make out any worthwhile details.

Words were exchanged in the clipped delivery of the Gamulians, and then their captor exited the building and trotted past them. Just behind him emerged another figure, apparently the Gamulian chieftain. _Apparently_ because he didn't seem particularly standout; he was short, cloaked in bear skins, his eyes only visible through the holes in the bear skull draped over his head. The fur, however, bore streaks of bright dye, and the chief carried himself with a palpable air of certainty and pride.

He stopped a few feet away from them, regarded them carefully. He looked to the Gamulian guards and said something in the clipped, high speech of their native tongue. They responded in kind, and though most of his countenance was unseen, his lip twitched slightly into a frown. Slowly, his attention returned to Belle and Mint.

"You are... magickers," he said, carefully enunciating the words. "You do not belong here."

Mint held up her hands as best she could. "Hey, that's fine," she said quickly. "I was just looking for something. If I find it, I'm out."

"You come here to take from us, then?"

Belle elbowed Mint hard in the ribs. "Stop talking," she hissed, and turned her attention tot he Gamulian chief. "What she _means_ is that we were looking for something from Ginema. Apparently it's not there."

"You sought to steal from the old magicker," the chief said. "We have already laid claim to what was left behind. You will find nothing."

"You sure?" Mint said. She looked around at the gathering crowd. "Look, we'll– I'm just looking for a set of earrings. If you've got those, maybe we can come to... I dunno... some kind of agreement?"

The Gamulian chief watched her for several long seconds, his eyes hidden in the shadows of his skull-mask.

"What are you doing?" Belle said quietly.

"_You_ want to fight your way through all these guys with that piddly little knife of yours, be my guest," Mint whispered back. Then she turned her attention back to the chief, and spoke up again so he could hear; "What would you trade for them?"

"Nothing," he said.

Mint felt her heart sink a little. "There's... really? No way this can work?"

"We do not possess such an item," the Gamulian said. "Though we would not part with it so easily if we did. You are magickers, humans, and your purpose for coming here is far beyond simply laying claim to old treasure. There are other motivations. What are they?"

Mint shrugged. "I'm really just here for some treasure."

"You're _not helping_," Belle hissed.

"Magickers coming into our forest to dig up the work of old magickers," the chief said. "Do you wish to see what the old magicker left our people?"

By the tone of his voice, it was clear that the answer was 'no'.

But they weren't given a chance to answer. The chief stepped back and slipped into his native tongue, barking orders at their captors, and then at the rest of the gathering. The Gamulians guarding them stepped forward and grabbed the rope bindings, and started once again to haul them along the path. The crowd parted, allowing them to easily slip through, heading toward another walkway. This one, like the one that had brought them up to the center of the town, also seemed to terminate into midair.

Belle shot a glare at Mint. "Anything smart to say?" she asked.

"Nope, I'm done."

As they reached the bridge, their escorts fell back and took up a post behind them. Belle had a half-formed idea to just stop, but when she tried there were suddenly spear-points at their back again and the two were encouraged to continue walking.

"You figure out where they're leading us?" Mint asked.

"How _would_ I?" Belle responded. She squinted, trying to peer through the darkness. "Something's wrong."

"Is it," Mint said. "Was your first clue the guys with the spears, or when our magic stopped working, or– oh, maybe back when it turned out the atelier was completely _flattened_. Somewhere in all that?"

"No," Belle said, and her voice was without humor and without malice. Mint felt a little kernel of cold crystallize in her chest. "The bridge– the end doesn't have a railing."

Mint turned her attention fully to the end of the bridge, and that sense of cold started to seep out into her limbs.

Behind them, the Gamulians had been conversing, and she stole a glance over her shoulder. Their escorts were right behind them, one of them jerking his spear-tip up to point it a little closer to Mint's face, but behind them the Gamulians had formed a heavy line down the bridge, all of them watching intently. She couldn't make out most of the words, but there was a particular phrase that Mint could hear repeated a few times.

"_Vani'tima_?" she asked, and looked at Belle. "Does that mean anything to you?"

"Of course it doesn't," Belle said. She refused to look over to Mint; her eyes were still solidly at the approaching end of the bridge. "Although if I had to make a guess it would be 'direct downward descent'."

Mint frowned. "Tell them that," she said. "I'm sure they'll be very impressed by your ability to alliterate in the face of death."

Belle ignored her.

They came to the end of the walkway and stopped. For a moment, the spears were no longer driving them forward. The conversation behind them quieted, then fell silent. The women exchanged a glance, both plainly uncertain of what came next.

"What, they think we'll just jump?" Mint asked.

Belle leaned over, craning her neck to see better. "There's water down there," she said. "I don't think–"

Without further warning, one of the Gamulian's whipped their lance around, sending the blade through a short, innocuous rope. The rope snapped immediately, and the platform edge they were on rattled and collapsed. Belle shouted in surprise and tried to right herself, but too late; she was unbalanced and sent over the edge.

The actual danger of the moment suddenly struck Mint. She wheeled around, ready to crash through the Gamulian hoard, but another spear sliced another rope, and the edge of the platform collapsed. Mint tried to reach up and grab at the edge of the walkway, but it was too far out of reach and she wouldn't have been able to grip it anyway, not with her hands tied. She fell.

Then there was impact, cold, a sense of being smothered. Then an impact against her head. Then, dark.

. .

Mint was aware of a few things; she was cold, she was damp, her head was throbbing, and something was digging uncomfortably into her ribs.

"Hey, hey, _ow_," she growled. She batted at the presence with her hand. "Stop that."

There was one more deep nudge against her chest, then the presence retreated. "About time," Belle growled. "It'd be annoying if you died."

Mint opened her eyes.

She was on her belly, on hard earth– no, correction, wood. A dock? She twisted herself around, got her hands beneath her, and tried pushing herself up only to crash back down. Something solid pressed against her shoulder, but more gently than she had expected.

"Slowly," Belle said. "You took quite a crack to the skull there."

Mint lay still and closed her eyes, focusing on breathing. She took in a deep breath, then it exploded into a hacking cough, and foul-tasting water spattered from her throat. The attack had set off the throbbing in her head again, and she had to make herself lay down completely, force herself to calm down. Belle took her boot off of Mint's shoulder and allowed the younger girl a bit of space.

Finally, when the dizziness had passed and the pain was a little more bearable, Mint began working herself upright.

"What happened?" she asked. She coughed again – no water this time – and tried to settle back down.

"You thwacked your head into a tree root or something," Belle said.

Mint opened her eyes and tilted her head back, trying to look at Belle. "Oh," she said. "That sounds about right." Slowly, she got her arms under her, and this time when she rose she did so much more cautiously; any time she felt a dizzy spell coming on she stopped, closed her eyes, breathed deep, and waited for it to pass. After a bit of doing, she managed to get herself sitting upright, at which point Belle walked back over to her and shoved a knife in her direction.

Mint pulled back instinctively, and Belle grinned. "Relax," she said, although she was clearly taking no small amount of pleasure in seeing Mint's discomfort. "I need you to cut the rope off me."

Sure enough; when Mint focused on Belle's wrists, she saw that the Gamulian rope was still tied there. She reached up and grabbed the knife, and only then realized that she had already been cut loose the same way. "You managed to cut me loose but couldn't do it for yourself?"

"Tried," she said. "No leverage. Stop asking stupid questions and help."

Mint did so; in two relatively quick cuts the rope fell with a wet _thump_ on the dock, and Belle rubbed her wrists. Then Belle reached out and nimbly plucked the knife of Mint's hands, returning it to its place on her belt.

"I could've used that," Mint said.

"And I can use it better," Belle said. "You're still bleeding, you aren't up for knife fights."

Mint raised her hand up to the back of her head, where the worst of the throbbing was coming from, and pressed gingerly against it. When she brought her hand around, the tips of her fingers were stained scarlet.

"That's great," she mumbled. She looked up to Belle. "Now what?"

"Now we get out of here," Belle said. "A pair of magical earrings isn't worth this kind of trouble."

Mint studied her for a moment, but Belle's attention was already turned upward, scanning the trees, one hand over her eyes while she pointed with the other. Mint pressed her hand against the back of her head and tried to concentrate, willing magic to seal up the wound, but it was no good; there was too much resistance. She could probably fix herself up, if she really tried, but the way her head felt she would likely risk bursting a blood vessel in the process.

But it did feel a little bit better – genuinely or thanks to the placebo effect, she didn't care – and she felt okay enough to pull herself back to her feet. She stumbled slightly, righted herself, waiting for the world to stop tilting.

"What are you _doing_?" Mint asked.

"The Hexagon is up there," Belle said. "I got turned around when they threw us down here, though, so I'm not _completely_ sure of where it is..."

"You're still gonna use that ugly thing?"

"You can go, if you prefer," Belle said. "I hardly need your cheek."

Mint looked around. It wasn't a bad suggestion, but she couldn't help but wonder _where_ she could go to. The dock was floating in the middle of a lake; there was a bridge that connected it back to shore, but Mint was hopelessly lost, turned around by the flying and the running and the being marched and the being thrown in a lake. Still, the shoreline was probably a decent start.

"Right," she said, looking at Belle. "You have fun with that."

Mint started to run toward the bridge but had to stop almost immediately when dizziness and nausea gripped her, and she almost collapsed. She managed to steady herself, waited until the moment passed, and then waited just a little longer in case the churning in her stomach came back. When she was sure she would be okay again, she prepped herself, decided not to run, and almost took a step back toward the bridge.

She thought better of it.

"Belle," she said.

"I thought you were leaving," the older woman grumbled.

Mint pointed down the path. "Not with that thing."

Belle looked down and turned. She stared for a few seconds. Then: "Oh."

The first thing she saw was a light, a shining drop of white flitting in and out of visibility behind the tree trunks; a light that attached to a long, malleable lure that connected it to something much, much larger. The creature drifted out from the trees, almost on its side, its massive pectoral fins spread out to allow it to pass between the trees before they beat once, powerful and slow, and the creature rolled in mid-air until it had righted itself. A huge, heavy tail propelled it through the air, steering its massive body forward and adjusting with the forward fins as it went. It was white, brilliantly and impossibly white, and as the creature swam through the air it seemed almost to leave a ghostly afterimage in its wake.

_I built a whale today._

And there it was, floating lazily through the air, a too-solid cloud floating lazily out of the darkening forest. It was headed in their direction, but in a subtle, gentle arc, making its way toward but around them. As the creature drew closer, it listed downward, skimming the top of the lake with its fins, directing itself along the edge of the shoreline.

"What is that?" Belle asked.

"I think," Mint said, squinting against the glaring white of its flank, "I think that's Ginema's guardian."

Belle stared at it, lowering her hand and turning herself fully to keep it in her sights, the edge of her mouth tugging into a frown. Slowly, she lowered her other hand from her eyes, her gaze fixed fully on the whale– then, on the highly out of place lure.

"That's it," she said. "That's the thing that's messing with our magic."

Mint looked at her sideways. "How can you tell?"

"Just feel for it," Belle said. "It's like a... a magic singularity, everything kind of _turns_ toward it."

Mint did just that, closing her eyes and focusing. She didn't even need to feel out what Belle was talking about; as soon as she reached for it, she realized that the whale was almost a black hole, a tangled mass of elaborate magic, so dense and heavy that she could actually feel the Dual Halos trying to respond to its presence, even though they were strapped to her belt and sleeping.

There was more to it, though. The whale was... astonishing. She knew magic, and she had a practiced eye for many different kinds of spells, but the way the whale had been woven put to shame any spell she had seen before. But there was another part of it, too, tangled up in the elaborate spells that had constructed the whale– much more mundane, coiled up and hidden against the blinding energy surrounding the whale's lure. That magic she recognized. It reminded her of when she had briefly possessed the tiara in the ruins, and to a lesser extent of the Prima Doll.

The earrings.

"Belle," Mint said quietly. "I'm gonna need a knife."

Belle shot her an acidic glare. "You've got your own weapon," she said.

"Yeah, because beating this thing over the head with some thin metal hoops is gonna be _real_ useful. Just give me _something_, I know you keep a couple on you."

"Your impracticality is your fault." After a moment's thought, she then added, "You're thinking of _fighting_ that thing?"

"Yes."

Belle clicked her tongue. "I knew you had a penchant for violence, but that's just stupid." She looked back up to the trees, apparently deciding that the whale wasn't worth watching. "I see the Hexagon. I'm getting out of here."

"It can't fly, remember?" Mint pointed. "Because of this thing."

Belle turned. "I guess that does complicate things."

"So give me a knife," Mint repeated. "We're gonna have to kill this thing if _you_ want to get out of here, no way around it."

The whale had just about completed a full circle around them, and was still floating in a languid, easy arc, although it seemed to have come a little closer. Belle was watching it again, eyes narrow, and finally reached to her belt.

"Here," she grunted, producing a short knife and handing it out to Mint.

At which point the whale let loose a powerful, resounding bellow and suddenly twisted in the air. It lashed its tail, slapping hard against the water. A massive, rippling wave erupted from where it struck, but that was not the immediate concern; the immediate concern was that the whale was now propelling itself directly toward the platform.

Belle dropped the knife and rolled to the side; Mint slammed herself into the dock boards. The whale shot past, its charge just barely scraping over their heads, and was followed only a few seconds later by its wave. The water crashed against the side of the dock, causing the whole thing to tilt wildly and sending a spray of water over the edge. Mint ducked her head against it and held her breath, and managed to come out of it soaking, but otherwise unharmed. Belle had not had quite so much preparation; she choked, sputtered, gagged.

Mint reached out for the knife and found that the water had propelled it further down the dock. She scrambled on her hands and knees, but just shy of reaching it the whale had turned around and was charging back at them, its head tilted down so its broad rostrum was angled toward them.

Mint threw herself flat against the dock again and reached for the knife, her fingers managing to edge their way up the handle. She pulled it closer, closed the handle in her fist, and rolled to the side as the whale's massive body went careening past. She barely made sense of it; the abruptness of her movements left her spinning.

Almost on reflex, she jammed her arm upward, trying to catch the whale with the blade, but it was too late and the whale moved too quickly; it was well out of range by the time she had the wherewithal to try. She jolted herself into an upright position, swallowed the nausea rising in her throat, and then forced herself to stand completely. As the whale swept across the other side of the dock and moved away, she saw Belle doing the same, crawling back to her feet.

Belle accented it, however, by snapping another knife from her belt and hurling it at the whale's hide. Mint didn't see the impact, but she saw the after-effect as the knife spun away from its target and landed with a small splash in the water. Belle snarled something intensely vulgar and grabbed a much heavier hunting knife from her belt.

The whale, although it had shrugged off the attack, did not seem much happy about being assaulted, and whipped around in the air faster than Mint would have thought possible, given its build and its bulk. It turned its attention toward Belle and opened its massive mouth, an odd, warbling wail rising from it. Then it charged for her.

Belle brought the hunting knife to bear, and with a wild scream threw herself at the whale.

And the whale opened its mouth fully and swallowed her.

Mint found herself solidly frozen, staring in numb disbelief as the whale's mouth snapped shut and its body jack-knifed back and in an instant Belle was _gone_. And the whale was turning in place, angling itself to face her.

Mint was suddenly aware of how very, very tiny the blade in her hand was.

The whale called out again and snapped its tail, propelling itself toward her. Mint threw herself to the deck again, down and to the side, bringing her hand up to slash at the whale's underbelly as she did so. This time she made contact; the knife blade sliced up against the whale's skin, dug a fine furrow into its body, and came away as the whale moved past.

Mint looked up to try and determine the damage. No blood, and the blade of the knife was slightly bent.

Well. Great.

The whale had reached the end of the lake with its momentum and angled around, tilting and propelling itself along the tree line, starting a broad circle that would take it back toward her. As it moved, the water beneath it started to shimmer and boil– not from proximity, but because it was starting to use its own magic. It dragged the water up behind itself, forming an ever-growing wave, and when it was ready it shifted its mass and turned toward her and shot back toward the platform. Mint stayed low and slammed the blade of the knife into the wood, tightening her grip on it as the tidal wave crashed onto the dock. She drew in a deep breath and shut her eyes tight as the water rushed over her, nearly dragging her off the dock with it, but she held fast to the knife and it held her to the dock.

And she had an idea.

Her own magic was useless here, that was true, but she had worked with previously woven spells many times before– reviving the lanterns in the mines had been only the most mundane use of the skill. It wasn't an easy thing to do, especially when the original caster was still alive and influencing the spell. But Ginema had died a fair while ago.

And his guardian was nothing _but_ magic.

She forced herself to her feet. Her blood was pounding in her ears and throbbing through her wound and behind her eyes, and concentrating on magic was going to make it much worse– but it was that or be eaten, and the idea of being eaten seemed terribly unappealing.

She reached to her back and drew the Dual Halos, then reached out to the whale and concentrated. She saw the tight weave of the spell, felt it rippling along the whale's organic shell, tried to feel out a weak point. She didn't have much time, it was already turning around and she could feel it projecting its own magic beneath her. The dock rocked as the water below started to hiss and boil and magic constricted and twisted, but Mint adjusted her stance – feet apart, solid, balanced – and managed to keep herself steady. There had to be something she could use...

From just to her side, a jet of water erupted from the dock, a highly focused and powerful geyser that, if it had hit her, would have had more than enough power to break something. She was too focused to move away from it, which was probably for the best; a similar geyser suddenly erupted from just to her other side, and if she had reacted properly to the first she would have definitely been crippled by the second.

The whale's magic suffused the water spouts. She reached out to them, wrested them with her mind, and slammed the Dual Halos together.

Magic roared through them, directed by Mint and ignited by their phantomite cores, and that was what she was counting on. Alone, Mint was an accomplished spell-caster, but hijacking active magic would be all but impossible. Even with the Dual Halos it was a dicey proposition, and if the whale had been a true sorcerer, with human intelligence and spirit behind him, it would probably have been impossible.

But Mint took hold of the magic and commanded the jets of water to turn back on their progenitor. And they did.

Kind of.

The jets turned and spat water in the direction of the whale, but their power petered out far short of their target, and when the whale disengaged the spell they collapsed into useless strings of water at either side of Mint and splattered sadly on the dock.

Not exactly a roaring success, but she had an idea.

The whale was picking up speed again, gathering another tidal wave with the clear intention of knocking her off the platform. She saw the way it wove the spell, netting it around the water and drawing it up behind itself, and Mint reached out to the gathering spell. She nested one of the Dual Halos inside the other and concentrated. They ignited with light – she actually felt the heat of the power they were generating – and she pushed that energy out toward the whale's gathering wave. She caught the threads of its spell and started to re-wave them, shifting the core of its power to a central location. If there was enough there–

It exploded.

The mass of water erupted from behind and beneath the wall, causing a sudden swell of power that caught it from behind and crashed into the back half of its body. The energy sent its tail up into the air, and the rest of the whale followed suit, flipping over entirely backward. It didn't have time to readjust itself before it smashed back-first into the lake, its fins desperately flapping at the water to turn it over.

Her arms fell, then her knees buckled, then she sand to the dock and started to dry heave. Too much; her whole body was shaking, she was covered in sweat, the pounding in her skull had transformed into an ice pick being lodged in her frontal lobe, her head wound was dribbling warm blood down the back of her neck, and all she had done was flip the stupid thing over. She couldn't keep this up.

She looked up, her vision blurring slightly, and saw that, of course, the whale was managing to spin over in the water, righting itself– but, she realized, not ascending. It was floating on the lake, still for a moment, then started to thrash its fins and lift its head. It smashed back into the lake, sending another waver of motion beneath the dock, but it was becoming progressively more apparent that it could not actually rise.

Had she managed to injure it somehow? Break its magical air-swimming bladder?

Wait.

She closed her eyes and reached out to the magic again, and realized that something was different– pieces of its spell were starting to come undone, sliding apart from each other. The spells were powerful enough that this didn't cause them to dissipate or even fray, but something was causing it to abruptly and neatly come unwoven. Like snipping threads. Or slicing them.

With a knife.

_Belle._

Of course. The whale was pure magic; it was held in place by an organic casing, but its whole structure was sustained through spellcraft. It didn't need to eat; therefore, it didn't need to digest; therefore, Belle was alive and furious and attempting to carve her way out of its belly with a knife.

Mint slowly got to her feet again. The whale was crippled and only growing more crippled as Belle continued to eviscerate it internally.

_Just a little more_, Mint told herself._ Just a little..._

She didn't bother standing up. She brought the Dual Halos to bear and touched them to each other, closed her eyes, and concentrated. She felt for one of the severed spells, wrapped her mind around the two edges that had been torn through. They were trying to come together again – a few of the others already had – but Mint couldn't allow that. She gripped them, bit her lip, and dragged the Dual Halos across each other before snapping them harshly apart.

The whale bellowed and thrashed against the water. Mint's thoughts were getting hazy, but she knew what to look for now. She found another severance and did the same; halos together, grip the edges, then tear apart. Another bellow, and when she dared to open her eyes she saw the whale starting to falter, sliding to one side. One fin was still lashing at the water, its tail still trying to keep up, but its other side almost seemed to crumple on itself.

She closed her eyes. Her magic projection was feeble now, but it was enough. One more band of spell-work, just one more severance, just one more tearing apart–

Mint looked up.

The whale had stopped moving completely, its mouth sagged open, its eyes staring at nothing, the light of its dangling lure flickering out. Its side, facing Mint, had a long, ragged hole in the side, and even as she watched another one formed over it. The two connected, and the whole slab of the whale's body fell into the lake. The magic unwove itself; on contact with the water, it vanished.

And behind it emerged Belle. She was sopping wet, covered in the dank moisture that had built up inside the whale over the years, but she looked largely unharmed.

Also angry.

She looked angry.

She shoved herself out of the whale's hollow body and into the lake, submerging for several seconds before re-appearing above the surface. She looked over her shoulder, raised her hand, and flicked her wrist, hurling a small ball of flame at its side. It struck the whale with an impudent little hiss, and Belle, apparently satisfied, swam the short distance back to the dock. She dragged herself up on the side, took a couple of steps forward, and then flopped face-first onto the dock.

Mint waited for her to respond, but nothing happened. Slowly, as Mint's own limbs stopped shaking so badly, she dragged herself over to Belle and gave her a once-over. The older woman was breathing, and without apparent complications; her pulse was strong and steady. But she was very clearly unconscious.

Mint looked over to the whale, closed her eyes, felt for its magic. The core of the spells had given up when the whale had died; the spell holding its body together was still there, but she could see the edges of it were crumbling. Without life, there was no reason for the whale to keep its solid form.

Mint sat up, very carefully, and leaned back, using Belle as a makeshift cushion. She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing, and after that was done she tried not to concentrate on anything at all. She didn't know how long she was there like that – she felt she fell asleep a couple of times, although in very brief bursts – and when she finally felt her strength properly returning, the sunlight she saw through the trees suggested it was still strong daylight, not a hint of afternoon or evening colors. It must not have been terribly long, then.

She needed a proper rest, of course, but she had gotten enough of an energy boost to finish what she had started. She shoved herself up to her feet, did one last check on Belle – still alive, still out of it, all good – and stepped toward the edge of the platform. The magic decay on the whale had accelerated at some point; nearly half of its body was gone, and the rest of it floated on top of the water like some bizarre cast-away blanket.

She tied one of the Dual Halos back into place and raised the other one. She concentrated on the breeze, tangled her magic into it, and flicked the ring. The wind blew back against the water, drawing the thinning remains of the whale back toward her until the end of its lure – still thick, still strong – bumped up against the leg of the dock.

Mint replaced the second halo at her back, retrieved the knife from where she had lodged it in the dock, and returned to the whale. She knelt down, fished the lure out of the water, and sunk the knife blade into the bulb. It felt like rubber; and resisted her cutting and slicing, but with a little doing she managed to form a cut large enough that she could reach her hand into the bulb. When she pulled her fist back out here, she brought with her two small, golden hoop earrings.

She stood up, stashed the earrings immediately into her money pouch, and looked around. Down at the remains of the whale; over to the end of the docks; over again to Belle.

Mint contemplated. Then she moved toward Belle, caught her by the arms, and dragged her to roughly the middle of the platform. With a little more expense of magic, she forced the remainder of the water out of the older woman's clothes. She checked her over quickly for any apparent damages, but Belle had gotten out of the whale's belly with surprisingly little damage other than exhaustion. And that was good enough.

"Sleep tight, Belle," Mint said genially. Then she sighed. "I'm sure I'll see you again."

Mint was halfway across the bridge when she finally had to stop and do a quick self-assessment. Mostly she was tired, and a little bruised; that crack to the skull was still there, but now that she had her faculties about her she could properly repair the damage, and did so, sealing up the wound. The expense of energy left her somewhat light-headed, but after a few seconds she shrugged it off and carried on.

Off the docks. Out in the forest. She walked straight forward – it was as good a direction as any – until she saw the clearing where Ginema's shattered atelier lay. She walked out into the middle of it, briefly basking in the sunlight, getting her bearings, and heading out in the direction of the beach. Before she had quiet left, though, she kicked one of the remaining pillars.

"_Such_ an asshole," Mint snarled, and then went on her way.


	17. Yordaf's Temple

**Seventeen || Yordaf's Temple  
**

* * *

The church was a small building, probably only a bit taller than anything else in Carona, but it had been built on the long archway that tied the town square to the path leading to the harbor, affording it significantly greater height and authority. Sitting on the eastern side of the town, Rue had seen its shadow looming over the square in the early mornings, but had not bothered to pay much attention to it until then, when he stepped through its doors.

There was a short hallway, for filtering and greeting, which quickly opened up into the congregation hall. It was bright and inviting; the ceiling was tall, the pews arranged spaciously, the large windows along the walls clear and well-cleaned, allowing sunlight to pour into the building and reflect off the white wall, causing its interior to bloom brilliant in the light of day. Far across from him stood the pulpit, and several feet behind the pulpit an abstracted statue reaching up to the crowning accomplishment of the building, a dazzling stained glass window that refracted a beautiful array of colors across the floor.

He was stunned to see it – to see everything, so bright and inviting – that he almost missed the figure approaching him from the far side of the church.

"Good morning," the man said, and Rue focused his attention forward. An older man – perhaps forty, all dressed in white robes – moved toward him, seeming almost to glide along the floor. His eyes were bright; his smile genuine. "I wasn't expecting any visitors today. Certainly not newcomers."

"Klaus directed me here," Rue said.

"Hmm. One of his associates, then? Have you come to pray for safety and success?" The man bowed slightly and held out his arm, indicating the pulpit. "Our doors are always open to those seeking communion with God."

Rue hesitated.

"S-sorry," he said quickly. "I actually– I was looking for Pastor Doyle."

The man straightened up. "How rude of me," he said, and held out his hand. "_I_ am Pastor Doyle." Rue reached out to accept his hand and shake. "What has brought to search for me, mister...?"

"Artema. Rue Artema."

They broke off the handshake, and Doyle tilted his head slightly, regarding Rue with a placid expression. "That's an unusual name," he said. "Where does it come from?"

"I'm... not really sure."

"Ah well." Doyle smiled. "What business do you have with me, Mister Artema?"

"Rue is fine," Rue said. "I, um... I had a few questions about... a sorcerer."

Doyle smile slipped slightly. "A sorcerer?" he asked. "I'm not sure how I can assist. Our town is not exactly replete with magic users."

"No, I mean..." He exhaled and forced himself to get to the point. "Are you familiar with the name Yordaf?"

Now Doyle looked at him with a renewed intensity. "Yes," he said. "Father Yordaf... a name with a great deal of ill omen. What of him?"

"I don't know," Rue admitted. "I was going to have a look at the old cathedral–"

"Across the lake?" Doyle asked quickly.

"Ah– y-yes," Rue said, a little shaken by how sharply Doyle had interrupted him. "Some of his work might still be there, but Klaus couldn't give me any specifics. He said you probably knew more about it than he did."

"Mm." Doyle closed his eyes. "A dreadful tale." He looked up. "You are set on exploring the cathedral?"

"I don't have a choice."

"There is always a choice," Doyle said. "That is how Man knows he is best beloved by God. He instilled in us a power to pursue good and evil alike, and all things in between, that we could choose our own destinies, either in His glory or... not."

Rue said nothing.

"And you've clearly made your choice," Doyle said, nodding. "Very well. Let me tell you of Father Yordaf."

. .

Rue was still running through the story as he made his way through the forest.

Father Augustus Yordaf, as Doyle had told him, was a devout man of God, the head priest of the church of Old Carona. He was a good man, well loved, and for more than his spiritual guidance; he had studied as a clerical physician before moving fully into the ecclesiastical role of his order, and was well versed in magical and practical healing.

During his time as the head of the clergy, a woman came to him in dire need of healing. Yordaf was highly accomplished at his works, and did everything he could for her, but it was to no avail. The woman died, and Yordaf was crushed. He performed his duties as well as could be expected, but his grief lasted for a long time. There was discussion of relieving him of his responsibilities – not because he was failing to uphold them, but to give him a little more space to deal with his own emotions – but before the matter could be fully discussed he started to recover. He went about his duties with the same vigor as he had before, and soon reclaimed his position as spiritual leader of the town.

But as he made his abrupt recovery, strange things began happening. Monster corpses turned up on the edge of the woods, or by the lakeside; at first that was all there was to it, but as time passed the corpses were found progressively more mutilated, from being skinned and flayed to being burned with ritual runes to being left as nothing but a pile of carved bones. Rumors started to spread of strange noises originating from the church, wailing and howling that went on for several minutes every night in the deepest hours of the morning. Some of the citizens tried to investigate, but they claimed to never find the origin.

And then some of them disappeared.

The kidnappings were a blip at first; it was assumed that those who were taken may have been consumed by monsters, which was not an unusual happening at the time. But then more people started disappearing, most of them women of a certain age profile, and the town became afraid. More people attended Father Yordaf's sermons until they became a daily occurrence, and the cathedral was almost overflowing with the fearful. In public Yordaf's words could calm the masses, and in private he would provide comfort and reassurance to the families of the missing.

Yet more people continued to vanish, and the church continued to scream.

Somebody finally broke in to the church during these night terrors and witnessed the source of the distress. While the cathedral performed its holy functions during the day, at night Father Yordaf had established a small, hidden room, inside which he would perform terrible rituals and experiments. The man who saw this fled and warned the rest of town, and they started to gather, to destroy the cathedral and the horrors buried within it.

Doyle said it was impossible to be certain, as no clear evidence had ever been found, but it was assumed that Yordaf had become possessed by a demon. He lived his life as he always had during daylit hours, but come nightfall succumbed to the demon's influence and performed horrific rites under its orders. When he was found, Yordaf's possession became absolute, and he locked himself away in the cathedral and started to conjure his twisted experiments back to life, anticipating that he would consume the town by force.

This, Doyle insisted, was why Old Carona had burned. The vile influence over the area had started when Grand Magician Elroy began his own peculiar work, and contacted Yordaf – or perhaps the demon within Yordaf – to assist him, and eventually culminated in Yordaf unleashing his twisted army on the town. This was more than could be taken, and so the guardian of the islands – the great dragon that still watches over them to this day – had taken matters into his own hands and passed judgment on the town, consuming it in purifying flame.

"How do you know that?" Rue had asked.

"A story passed through our order," Doyle had replied, "to remind us to maintain our vigilance– for ourselves, and for Carona. I can't say how much is true, but let me warn you. I have visited Old Carona, and I have been to the cathedral, and it stands immaculate to this day. There is something that maintains it still, and it is not there by the will of God."

An unnerving conversation, to be sure, but Rue wasn't entirely sure what it had to do with Elroy or the Prima Doll. Or if it did at all. Klaus had just wanted him to be aware of what he was getting into, after all; maybe that's all it was, a warning of foul air and dark spirits.

Rue crested the edge of the hill and paused there for a few moments, taking an opportunity to catch his breath. Before him spread the lake, placid and glassy; beyond, on the other side of the bowl, Old Carona. He saw through the remains of the town, and to the silhouette of the cathedral still standing tall against the sky. At least it wouldn't be hard to find.

He made his way around the edge of the bowl, his eyes flickering sometimes from the cathedral back down to the altar in the lake. It was awe-inspiring, and deeply frustrating, knowing what lay beneath that seal – being _so close_ to it – and yet being powerless to do anything.

Not much longer, he reminded himself.

He made it to the far shore of the lake, and the ground began to change. The pleasant, soft grass that rimmed most of the lake bowl gave way to something harder, first a layer of gravel then a layer of stone and concrete, pockmarked by grass and shrub that had erupted from beneath the old layer of civilization.

Then, buildings, or the remains of them; blasted apart, blasted open. Hunks of crumbling concrete and the gleaming edges of shattered glass littered the streets. As he worked further into the old town's remains, the detritus grew worse and even messier, and the streets felt even more closed off.

The encroachment of nature became thinner and thinner, the buildings more solid, and there were brief flashes where he could not see the destruction of the town, where the buildings had collapsed away from him, or still somehow held themselves strong, and he would come to a stop in the middle of the street and look around and see what had once been. It was covered in grime and vines, windblown and eroded by rain, but for fleeting bursts he could see how the town must have once stood; the cathedral looming over the residential buildings, the powerful disk of the sun visible on the western horizon.

As he walked, he felt a strange sensation rising up in his chest. Atelier ruins were one thing, but he could almost hear the sounds of the living town, and to see it so desiccated was heartbreaking. He found himself blinking away unbidden tears; sorrow and nostalgia were wreaking havoc on him. By the time he reached the cathedral itself, he was strangely shaky, and had to take pause to catch his breath.

Then he looked up at the cathedral.

He understood fully what Klaus and Doyle had tried to impress upon him; even in the midst of this blasted, hollow city, the cathedral remained, gleaming and imposing. It wasn't perfect – the facade bore visible cracks, the windows were dulled and distorted by age, creeper vines were threatening to make their way up the walls – but it was in far better condition than any building in the town should have been, and looking upon it was... disconcerting.

But he had seen protected buildings before. Even ignoring Doyle's story, Yordaf had been a sorcerer in league with the Grand Magician; protecting his building was not out of the question.

He stepped inside.

The instance he passed into the foyer he was struck by how dark it was inside. Where the church of Carona had been built to allow as much natural light in as possible, the cathedral had been designed to capitalize on a powerful sense of height. Looking up, the ceiling seemed to stretch far taller than it had from seeing it outside; the whole room felt much taller than it could possibly be. The windows were tall but narrow, barred across, and composed mostly of colored rather than clear glass. At one point it must have been awe inspiring, to see the patterns of light spreading out over the congregation hall, but even though everything inside was neat and tidy time had not been kind to the glassware; the glass was warped and infused heavily with dust and ash, casting twisted and muted fragments of color across the floor.

Far overhead, he could make out a chandelier dangling over the ceiling, and moving down he saw that its light must have been augmented by a great many lesser torches and lanterns. He peered around the room and saw a small switch set into the wall behind him, a magic trip-switch that, five hundred years ago, would have set the whole room to light.

He flipped it without much hope, but to his surprise he felt something twist on the other side, and suddenly the chandelier – most of it, at least – bloomed to life, followed swiftly by the lanterns and the torch brackets. The wave of awakened magic was so sudden and intense he couldn't help but shiver.

But now he could see.

He made his way down the center of the aisles, slowly, looking down both wings of the hall as he went, searching for anything unusual. As he approached the pulpit, however, he was struck mostly by how _normal_ everything seemed to be. For how old the building was – for how damaged the town was – the interior of the cathedral, with its neatly aligned pews and undamaged pulpit and almost flawless lighting, was making him nervous.

But the only thing that met him on his way up to the pulpit was the faint whisper of the activated flames and his own muted footsteps. When he reached the far end of the cathedral and found that nothing had happened, he stopped concentrating on what was around him and instead looked at what was in front.

Behind the pulpit, carved into the wall, was a rather large relief, nearly twice as tall as he was. The relief depicted a woman, naked, facing forward, arms spread and palms up. Her face was serene; her hair flared out around her head like the rays of a sun.

He stared for a few seconds, utterly perplexed, and then pulled himself up to the pulpit, to the same level the relief started on, and approached it.

Rue had seen plenty of churches – of different houses of worship – over the past few years, but he had never seen any that had artwork quite like this. It wasn't a religious figure, or at least not one that he was aware of, and while the posing at least played at religious imagery there was something about it that didn't seem right. A local saint or martyr? Maybe, but...

Something else wasn't sitting right with him, either. He turned and looked down the length of the cathedral, and while the building felt tall and imposing, it also felt somehow truncated. He had crossed one end to the other too quickly; there should have been more building.

A small, hidden room, Doyle had said. Rue turned back to the relief and knocked. He shifted over slightly and knocked again. Then once more, far off on the right side of the relief, and the sound returned hollow.

He started to search in earnest now, pressing his hands against the relief and feeling for any indication of seams. After a few minutes he found them; the door was organically designed, not just a rectangle, its edges blurring into the details of the relief. When he had that narrowed down, he tried pushing, he tried pulling, he tried wedging the blade of the gladius between seams and somehow forcing it open that way. No good.

A switch, then?

His first instinct was to check the pulpit, and sure enough, there it was; the bottom level of the pulpit was hollow, and sitting in the middle of that was small switch. He pressed it.

There was a dull whine from somewhere down below. The floor shook, and Rue had to grab on to the pulpit to keep his balance. Mechanisms that had laid dormant for centuries were suddenly groaning and screaming, trying to force themselves back to life, their cry filling the cathedral with a distant, eerie roar.

Something heavy clunked away; something beneath him snapped. Then, from behind, the piece of the relief buckled oddly, tilting to one side as part of the mechanism soldiered on and the other part simply failed. It shivered a few times as the machinery tried to compensate, then gave up. The cathedral fell silent once again.

Not exactly perfect, but enough of the door had been displaced that there was a small crack near the bottom, not substantial enough for him to fit cleanly through but enough that he could wedge his arms into it and try to shove the rest of the door out of the way. Unfortunately, either the door was much heavier than he had expected or the machinery had failed in such a way that it wouldn't allow it to be opened any further.

He pushed away from the door and gauged the size of the hole. He knew what to do.

He conjured the image in his mind: offshoot of the porcupine family, small mammal with short legs and a surprising amount of heft for its size, covered in spines. He didn't know what, if anything, was on the other side of the door, but if something was going to attack him before he could properly react he didn't want to be caught completely off-guard.

Heat gathered in the crystal on his forehead, then released across his body, flaring brilliant blue over his skin. When the light vanished, he shook off and quickly tested his new limbs. All in order, he took a quick look around, got his bearings, and moved, slipping easily through the small hole and out onto the other side.

It was far darker in the isolated room, of course, and Rue allowed himself several seconds to see if anything would pounce or emerge from the shadows. When nothing happened, he tentatively stepped forward a few feet and stood waiting again. Still nothing.

He released his hold on the monster's form and returned to himself, trying to take in as much as he could in the brief flare of magic in the process, although there was relatively little to see. He was in a small room, and there was a suggestion of a few old pieces of furniture. There was also a suggestion of a lamp; he reached up overhead and groped in the darkness until his hand came upon a small knob, and he twisted it, hoping the magic woven into the lantern was just as strong as it was outside.

It wasn't as strong, but after a few seconds of waiting the lingering spell managed to activate again, bathing the room in a dull reddish glow. He let his eyes adjust and took a few steps forward, up to the desk in front of him. There was something on top of it – a few somethings on top of it – difficult to determine in the poor lighting even when he was practically standing on top of it. He picked up one of the objects, planning on examining it closer to the source of light, but stopped almost immediately.

Whatever he was holding was brimming with magic. He couldn't make sense of it, of course, but it reminded him of what he had felt inside the cube, without the layers of obfuscation over it. He turned and brought it back to the light to get a better look at it, and confirmed his suspicions; it was a gauntlet, far too small for adult hands but perfectly fitted for a child.

He went back to retrieve the other items, all of them bristling with spell-work; a second gauntlet, and a pair of small sollerets. This had to be what he was looking for.

He shoved the collection out through the hole in the door, then briefly transformed into the porcupine so he could follow. When he was back out in the open and back in his own body, he collected the small arrangement of accessories and laid them out on top of the pulpit. If he rummaged around he could probably find some kind of little box to put them in for easier transport, although if not it wouldn't be hard to bring them back, just unwieldy.

Before he really had a chance to look around, his thoughts were interrupted by clapping.

Rue looked up.

There was a man standing at the pews; it took Rue only a few seconds to recognize him as the male partner of the woman that had attacked them in Elroy's atelier.

"Hey, neat trick!" he called.

Rue leaned forward on the pulpit and regarded the man warily. "Where did you come from?" he asked.

"You aren't real subtle," the man said. "I just followed you here. Figured you knew what you were looking for better than I did." He sat down and leaned back, kicking his feet up on the pew in front of him. "And I guess you did, didn't you? You wanna hand those over?"

Rue stared at him. "Not particularly," he said.

"Figured as much." The man shifted in his seat, now leaning forward on the pew, and Rue continued to study him.

"You're... Duke, right?" he asked.

"Ah, yeah, we weren't properly introduced, were we?" He stood up and half-bowed. "Duke Murdoch. And – I mean, nothing personal – but I'm _probably_ gonna have to kick your ass if you don't want to give me whatever you found."

Rue continued to stare at him.

"Nothing personal," Duke repeated.

"Yeah, no, I got that." Rue looked around quickly, trying to see if there was an easy way around this without needing to fight, and while he could think of a few ways to slip away without a confrontation there was nothing coming to him that would let him carry the gauntlets and sollerets when he left.

But maybe he could talk.

"You did some kind of crazy things back in Elroy's atelier," Rue said. "I've never really seen magic like that."

Duke brightened up immediately. "You noticed?" he asked. "But I guess you didn't recognize it. _Shadow Legends_. The main character is a ninja who studies up on secret ninjutsu techniques and uses them to–"

"Wait," Rue said quickly. "Sorry, I'm not following."

Duke slid off the pew and started walking up the central aisle. "You like books?" he asked.

Rue was starting to have difficulty following the thread of conversation, but if he could keep Duke talking instead of punching, he was willing to give it a try. "Yeah. Sure. I, uh, haven't really gotten a chance to read in a little while, though."

"That's a shame," Duke said, and he sounded like he meant it. "Me, I love books. Nothing gets me fired up like a good story. I was reading this book last night, _Fist of Fire_, and oh, it had _everything_. Action, adventure, romance... I pulled an all-nighter just to finish it." He laughed. "'Course I'm a little tired after that, but it was _completely_ worth it. Watch this!"

Duke faded out of existence, and Rue threw himself backward just in time for Duke to flicker back, his fist wreathed in pale flame as he punched straight downward in the spot Rue had just been standing. His fist made contact with the floor and splintered the wooden boards, sending up a small cloud of wood particulate and carpet fuzz. Rue had already dawn his own weapon and was standing on the defensive, but Duke simply pulled his fist back and shot him a broad grin.

"The Diving Inferno," he said. "The ultimate technique of the Fist of Fire. Pretty cool, huh?"

Rue was silent, absolutely confounded, but slowly gathered himself to respond. "Y-yes," he said carefully. "It– yes it is."

But then he realized; Duke had never intended to hit him, or even show off the attack. He just needed Rue to get out of the way.

Duke had produced a small bag from somewhere in his coat and was slipping the items into it; by the time Rue came back to himself the only thing left was one of the gauntlets, which Duke was in the process of reaching for. Rue forced himself to remain motionless as Duke picked up the last of the armor and slid it into the bag. He tied it off, hefted it over his shoulder, and shot Rue a grin.

"Guess you thought better about the whole not handing it over thing, huh?" Duke asked. When Rue slid his sword back into its sheath, Duke smiled more broadly. "I was kinda hoping to have a good fight with you, gotta admit, but milady wanted me to bring whatever you found back to her quick as I can. Maybe some other time?"

Duke had half-turned away from him when Rue responded by transforming into a saber-fanged tiger and throwing himself at Duke's back.

Duke toppled immediately, and Rue reached down and grabbed the bag with his teeth. He hefted it back up, about as comfortably as he could, and leapt off of Duke's back, springing into the middle aisle. He looked over his shoulder to see Duke dragging himself back to his feet, and then he turned his attention toward the door and ran. He heard Duke right behind him, but he was far faster in this form and if he could clear the building then he was home free.

Impact suddenly sent him careening to the side, the bag ripped from his teeth, and he crashed into the pew, knocking it backward. Rue managed to pulled himself upright to see Duke pulling his fist back, ephemeral flame still clinging to him, a triumphant grin across his features.

Right. Short-range teleportation. Ninjutsu. Whatever.

Duke picked up the bag again, but this time he threw it behind him and turned to face Rue. Rue clambered upright, letting go of his hold on the saber tiger and returning to human form. No point trying to outmaneuver him now; Duke was ready for a proper fight.

Rue drew the sword from its sheath just as Duke suddenly rocketed forward, his fists flying. Rue ducked and shoved to the side, jolting the pew to the side as Duke tried to run over it, and Duke was thrown off balance and crashed just behind Rue. Rue threw himself back to his feet and bolted, leaping over the center aisle and diving for the bag of goods. He managed to grasp the bag and yank it up off the floor as Duke flickered into existence just in front of him. Awkwardly, Rue tried to slash at him with the gladius, but Duke managed to deflect the blade with his arm and nearly knocked the sword from Rue's grasp. Rue unbalanced himself to keep hold of his weapon, and Duke twisted to the side and snatched the bag back.

Duke reeled back until he reached the far aisle, and threw the bag over his shoulder again. He was frozen for a moment, his eyes flickering between Rue and the front doors, and he seemed to have just about come to a decision when suddenly the front doors opened.

"Rue!"

They both turned to see Elena stepping into the cathedral.

"Elena?" Rue asked. "What are you doing here?"

"I– I was coming to tell you," she said breathlessly, running a short distance down the central aisle. "There was a weird guy following you, I've never seen him before, but he– oh!" She relaxed slightly. "I guess you already met him."

Rue looked over to Duke. Duke shot him a quick look, and then suddenly threw himself down the aisle. Elena spun, trying to follow his movements, and Rue swore and threw himself over the pews, trying to close the distance between himself and Duke before Duke could escape, running through his options.

He discounted all of them when Duke slammed head-first into the doors.

Rue jumped the rest of the pews, dove out into the aisle, and ran up to Duke. Duke had collapsed just in front of the doors, groaning slightly, he hand against his head and the bag fallen discarded next to him. Behind them, Elena walked up, picking up the bag as she approached. She looked at them both curiously.

"Who is this?" she asked.

"His name's Duke," Rue said. "He was following me so he could steal the treasure from here."

Elena sniffed. "Well that's not very nice."

"Shuddup," Duke growled. Rue took a step back – and drew Elena back with him – as Duke forced himself to his feet. Duke quickly checked himself for damage – forehead, nose, teeth – and wound up just pressing his hand against his forehead. "That was a rotten trick, locking the door behind you."

Elena tilted her head. "I didn't..."

Rue quickly assessed Duke, looked to see where exactly Elena was, and then side-stepped over to the door himself. He grasped the handle and pulled. The door shook, but did not open. Confused, he pushed against the door, but just the same it refused to move.

"What?" he breathed. He tried the other one, but, unsurprisingly, it was just as reluctant to open. He checked the lock mechanism on the door, twisted it both ways until he heard it click, tried again.

The doors refused to open.

Duke sidled up next to him. Rue flinched to the side, but Duke just shook his head. Then he reached for the doors and wrestled with them himself. Still nothing.

"What, are they stuck?" he asked himself.

"They opened really easy when I came in," Elena said. "Maybe there's something on the other side?"

"They open in," Rue said. "If there's something outside, it wouldn't keep us from being able to pull them open from this side."

He took a few steps back and examined the door. There was nothing out of the ordinary that he could see – no chains, no locks, nothing that might have tripped and sealed it behind them.

Then, a noise.

It was a faint hiss, a faint rattling, a dull moan. Rue almost mistook it for the sound of the machine he had activated earlier – further away and trying with even less hope to perform its task – but he realized quickly that it was not muffled, and after he listened for a few more seconds he realized that it was not, in fact, wholly mechanical.

He turned.

There was a creature standing there, center of the aisle, watching them. When it inhaled, its chest shivered and shook; when it exhaled, it did so with a low hiss. It was humanoid, but indistinct; its body was swathed in ragged cloth, its face hidden beneath a grated helmet. Rue stared at it, and though he could see no indication of eyes he had a terrible feeling that it was staring directly back at him.

Elena had turned as well, and was looking on in silence. Finally, Duke looked away from the door and toward the monster. For several seconds, none of them spoke.

Then, slowly, Rue found words.

"It's one of Elroy's dolls," he said. "There were a couple of them in his atelier. What's it... why is it here?"

And _how_ was it there? The ones in Elroy's atelier had been dead – no, lifeless, there was a difference. 'Dead' implied they had been alive before, and though he could not quite explain why Rue felt that the _things_ in Elroy's atelier had never actually been alive. Although he wasn't entirely sure the one standing in front of them was actually alive, either. There was something about it, seeing it animate, that made his skin crawl.

"You think this thing sealed the door?" Duke asked.

"I didn't see it near the door," Elena whispered. "What's it doing?"

At first Rue thought it was a general question, but he realized that one of its shoulders was twitching, something moving in erratic, jerking motions underneath its cloth flesh. Slowly, laboriously, the arm began to move, the shoulder grinding out a high-pitched whine as its mechanisms forced themselves to turn. A shaking hand rose up, fingers splayed, and with a terrible wrenching whine it staggered forward, almost falling over itself as its legs barely responded.

It staggered one step, two, and then almost launched itself at Elena.

Rue stared, paralyzed, willing himself to move but somehow unable to. The monster lurched toward Elena, making a terrible, broken moan, and he had to move, raise the sword, even just tackle the thing, keep it away from her but there was something so wrong about it something _missing_ that he could barely comprehend how it could be there at all–

Fortunately, he wasn't the only one there.

Something flashed white in front of him, and in a heartbeat Duke had the thing tackled and slammed down against the floor, and Rue found that his limbs would respond again. He reached over, took Elena by the arm, and drew her away from the puppet while Duke stood up, grabbed it by the throat, and hurled it hard against the wall. It crumpled on impact, releasing a series of metallic snaps and pops, and then slumped to the ground, unmoving.

Duke turned to face them, and looked at Elena. "Are you okay, little miss?"

Elena nodded. "Y-yeah. Thank you."

His attention immediately turned to Rue. "And you were just gonna let her get attacked?"

"I'm sorry," Rue said. "Something just– I couldn't move, it..."

Duke folded his arms and looked down the cathedral. "There might be more of those," he said. "We need to get out of here."

Rue ran his hand through his hair, tried to calm his breathing. "Y-yeah, agreed. There must be another door in the back, or something..."

He started down the aisle, a bit shaky and now on high alert. The puppet had snuck up on them out of nowhere, and he had a terrible feeling that was not the only one there. Where had it come from, though? Elroy's atelier was too far for it to have originated from there...

He heard a loud _crack_ from behind and spun around to see Duke yanking his hand away from the door and hissing. The door now bore a notable crack, although it was not nearly enough to break it; likewise, Duke's hand now bore a notable latticework of blood.

"What did you _do_?" Rue shouted.

"I thought maybe if that thing died the door would open. Y'know, like a magic spell." He shook out his hand and gritted his teeth. "They didn't."

"Oh no!" Elena cried, and she dropped the bag of armor pieces and ran up alongside Duke. Her hands now free, she reached into one of the pouches at her side and withdrew a small flask of pale blue liquid. "Let me see your hand, Dukey!"

In response, Duke yanked his hand away and stared at her. "No, no, I don't need– _Dukey_?"

In his confusion, Elena reached up and yanked his arm free and town to her level. She uncorked the bottle with her teeth and splashed some of it against his hand. She set the bottle down and brought up the edge of her dress, using it to lightly daub at the damage. Duke was trying his hardest to slip away without actually disrupting her, but Elena was surprisingly firm and methodical, and after only about twenty seconds she released him and returned the re-corked bottle to her purse.

"Better?" she asked, and without asking for him to continue added, "You couldn't just leave it like that, with all those splinters. It'd get infected!"

He shook out his hand and stared at it for a moment, his expression contorted in irritation before slowly giving way to surprise. "It... hm. Thanks."

"Elena, where did you get that?" Rue asked.

She looked up. "It's a healing bottle Fancy Mel gave to me, a little while ago. She told me to save it for when I really needed it, so when I saw Dukey following you I thought he might be a bad man and brought it in case you got into a fight." She looked at Duke and smiled. "But you aren't that bad at all, are you?"

"If you keep calling me _Dukey_ I might be," he grumbled.

"That's... that's really handy," Rue said. "Hopefully you won't need to use any more of it during this trip." He picked up the discarded item bag, thought about it, and handed it back to Elena. "Hold on to this," he said. "I don't know where that thing came from, and if there are any more of them Duke and I need to keep our hands free to fight."

"_I'll_ keep my hands free to fight," Duke said. "_You_ can freeze up and be bait."

Rue ignored him.

He took the lead and headed back toward the pulpit, with Elena following right behind him and Duke taking up the rear. They crept up to the front of the church, and Rue turned off, examining the wall along the far end. Nothing to the right of the pulpit, and when they made a train to examine the left wall, there was nothing there, either.

"Maybe a door to the side?" Elena said.

But they checked both wings, and all that met them was solid walls and twisted windows.

"Maybe break through a window?" Duke suggested.

"Ignoring the problem of scraping through broken glass," Rue said, "they're too small." He pointed out one as they walked by. "If the width of the window was all we had to deal with, then sure, but they're divided by these cross bars."

Duke examined the window. "Well," he said, "you could get out, then."

Rue stared at him. "What?"

"C'mon," Duke said. "I saw you turn into monsters. One of 'em was pretty small. If we broke the glass, you could turn into somethin', slip through, and see if there's something keeping the door closed from outside. Or try to open it from outside." He paused and thought. "I mean, maybe it locks inside? We all got in without any trouble."

Rue hesitated. "I'm not sure– I mean, I don't want to leave Elena..."

"It's okay!" Elena said brightly. "Dukey will–"

"_Duke_," he corrected sternly.

"–be able to keep me safe. Right, Duke?"

Duke gave her a blank look, but made a point of looking at his hand. Already the bleeding had stopped and several of the cuts had healed over. "I owe you for fixin' my hand," he said. "Guess I can watch over you."

Rue bit his lip and looked across the cathedral. There was no indication of monsters pouring out of the walls, or that there _were_ any more than that one lone puppet. Maybe that's all there had been. Maybe it had been sitting somewhere and their presence had disrupted it. Maybe, maybe.

"All right," he said finally. "Stand back."

He removed the sword from his side, sheath and all, and turned it so the hilt was aimed at the window. Then, with all of his physical force behind it, he slammed the hilt against the window and knocked himself backward with the rebound.

All right, probably should have known that wouldn't work.

"I've got it," Duke said. He removed his coat, wrapped it as best he could around his undamaged fist, and drew back. "Fist of Fire," he whispered to himself. "No window is gonna stop my fist! Of! FIRE!"

And he punched clean through the window.

Duke pulled his hand back through, using his coat as a means of sweeping aside most of the glass and trying to get rid of some of the jagged shards that still poked out through the window pane. It was still a rough job, and Duke looked a little shaken for having done it, but he grinned and Elena clapped and Rue couldn't help but smile faintly.

"Very nice," he said.

"Heh. A little bit of glass is nothing for the Fist of Fire." Even as he said it, though, Duke sounded a little breathless and drawn, and he was visibly perspiring.

"You're both really strong!" Elena said.

"Whatever it takes to protect a lady," Duke said, inclining his head. "Now gimme a sec, I need to shake the glass outta this thing."

He wandered a few feet off, unrolled the coat, and proceeded to do just that, trying to free it from the clinging glass shards, and trying to keep his face away from it. Rue watched him for a few seconds, then looked back to Elena.

"What _are_ you doing here, Elena?" he asked. "You know how dangerous it is out here?"

"No," she said. "And I don't think you do, either." She allowed a couple of seconds for the observation to settle in, and Rue had to admit that no, he didn't know, either. He assumed the worst – hence why he was distressed that Elena had followed him – but he couldn't be sure if it was really that dangerous for her, either. Then again, with that puppet having appeared from nowhere...

But they couldn't have known about that before walking inside the building.

"That doesn't answer my first question," he said quickly.

"Well," Elena began. "I– I wanted to help. So I went down and asked Dad where you were going, and I was gonna wait until you left the church and then follow you here and maybe help you find the things for the Prima Doll." She paused. "Dad kinda told me about Prima."

"And you were just going to follow me?"

"I _was_," she said, "but when you were leaving I saw Dukey– Duke, I saw him shadowing you, and I remembered that fight you had with those hoodlums yesterday and I got kinda nervous so I went back home to get the magic potion just in case, so I was here a little late."

"That's incredibly reckless of you," Rue said. "But... thank you." He braced himself on the edge of the windowsill. "You sit tight. I'll be right back."

"'Kay."

He focused and released, emerging from the wave of magic in the quick, lithe form of a pollywog. He slipped out the broken window without any difficulty, transformed back on the other side, and made his way around to the front doors.

When he rounded the corner, he was expecting to see something – more puppets, perhaps, holding the door shut from the other side, or else some kind of magic sigil that would suggest a spell had left them trapped inside. But when he came around the corner there was a great deal of nothing.

He walked up to the front doors of the building and pressed his palms against them, feeling for magic, but there was nothing unusual there, no spells, no traps. Confused, and thinking perhaps whatever had locked them in was gone, he pushed against the door.

Resistance. Denial. The doors refused to budge.

He paced along in front a few times, searching for some alternative route, something they might have missed. He checked for anything that might be making it harder for one of the doors to open; he checked for switches or levers or trails of magic that one of them might have tripped on the way inside. He found nothing.

Rue was growing concerned.

He pressed against the doors, shoved against them, pounded his fist against them, shouted to the other side– "Elena! Can you hear me?" There was no response, which wasn't altogether unforseen – the doors were thick, the cathedral huge, and he had come through a window in one of the wings, so it wouldn't be that strange for Elena not to hear him – but he was growing nervous. Something in his chest had turned solid and frigid, and his mouth was going dry; the next time he tried to call Elena's name, he almost choked on the word.

_Something's wrong_.

He tried to force himself to calm down, and after about three seconds of that he turned and ran back around the side of the cathedral. He ran up to the broken window and nearly threw himself through it, transforming mid-jump and sliding out onto the other side. As a pollywog he hit the other side of the window sill at an odd angle and sent himself flopping to the ground, slightly dazed.

His recovery was agonizingly slow, even though it only took a few seconds for him to get his bearings back, and he immediately made use of the pollywog's air-swimming capacity to spiral up into the air and come to a stop several feet high, looking around the room. Elena should have been standing right by the window; she should have been there to check on him the instant he crash landed onto the floor.

And she was not there. She was not near the window. She was not near the door.

He shot to the other side of the cathedral, gained more altitude, swam the perimeter and scanned everything below himself– and above, just to be thorough. She was gone. She was gone, and Duke was–

–splayed unconscious behind the pulpit.

Rue snapped his tail and tore through the air, landing alongside Duke. In a flash of azure, he emerged as himself again and knelt down next to Duke, checking his vitals quickly. Heart-rate elevated, but okay, and his breathing was fine. Rue ran his hand along the back of Duke's head and felt liquid warmth; he brought his hand back and saw it streaked with scarlet.

How long had he been outside? Only a few minutes, surely...

There was a noise, mechanical grinding, and he looked up to see one of Elroy's dolls sitting in a corner of the platform, hidden in shadow. It must have noticed him, too; the puppet's head turned so its helmet was facing him, tilted so the place where its eyes should be was angled to him.

It exhaled, a terrible crackling hiss from the depths of its lungs, and starting to drag itself upright. Rue felt that same cold lance strike through him, chilling his blood and freezing his muscles.

The puppet was gathering itself now, rising up from where it had been slumped over, extending its arms. Its legs were awkward beneath its body, not quite synchronized to how it was supposed to move, but after a few steps it caught on to the rhythm of walking and stumbled closer to him. Rue's heart leapt up into his throat; his whole body broke out in a cold sweat. He couldn't stand to look at this thing, couldn't stand to be so close, he had to get away, there was something wrong with it–

Then he saw the blood.

It was not substantial – there was spatter on its outstretched hand, flecks of blood traveling down its side and across its torso – but the puppets were mechanical monsters. They didn't bleed. That was either from Duke or Elena.

Slowly, Rue forced himself up to his feet, and much less slowly brought the gladius to his hand.

"What did you do?" he whispered.

The puppet responded with a terrible shriek, and it lurched toward him.

And Rue, his every instinct screaming at him to get away from this thing – monster – abomination – stepped forward and brought the sword down on its neck. In a single swipe, the metal pole connecting the head to the body was severed, and the puppet fell lifeless in front of him. He pulled back, breathing heavily, and stared at it for several long seconds, trying to understand.

What were these things? What was _wrong_ with them?

Or what was wrong with him. The ones at Elroy's atelier had been no trouble, he could handle them – seeing them, manipulating them physically – with no difficulty. But these...

Then the soul coalesced.

He saw it rising from the puppet's body, a point of light that cast no light, spiraling upward in twitchy, jerky motions, dipping down suddenly as though it could not sustain its own weightlessness. It was hemorrhaging energy, great drops of light peeling off its body and fizzling out as they fell to the ground. Even the core of light, typically a solid sphere from which the rest of the soul's energy fell, was... wrong. He couldn't entirely get a handle on its shape; it seemed to be strangely amorphous, twitching and writhing and bubbling and collapsing as he stared at it.

"The soul is sick," he said quietly.

He had never seen anything like it before, this deformation of the spirit. He briefly considered subsuming it, to understand what had made it so malformed, but he felt such a powerful sense of revulsion the idea that he had to physically pull himself away.

The puppet's soul drifted, faded, disappeared, and the queasiness in the pit of his stomach slowly started to lift.

Behind him, Duke moaned.

Rue turned and knelt down next to him. "Hey," he said. "You okay?"

"M'fine," Duke said. "Just caught me off guard."

"Here, I'll help you up."

Duke turned his face to look at Rue for a moment, his gaze still unfocused. Then, slowly, Duke held out his hand, and Rue took it, helping him stagger back to his feet. Duke took several seconds to steady himself, and, unbidden, Rue helped him stay upright when he almost tilted over.

When it looked like Duke was just about standing on his own again, Rue asked, "What happened?"

"Dunno," Duke said. "You left, and that girl came over to talk to me and check on my hand, and then all of a sudden something– something _big_ sounded like broke and then a bunch of those dolls came outta nowhere. I tried to fight 'em off but they knocked me out, and–" He stopped talking, the color draining out of his face.

Rue already knew where this was going. "They took her."

"Y-yeah. They must've..."

"Why would they..." No, useless question, move on. "D'you know where they went?"

"I didn't see where they came from..."

Rue shot a glance around the room. He hadn't seen anything when he had been circling, but then again, he'd only had eyes for Elena; he had hardly even noticed Duke, white coat against the dark red carpet.

Then he saw it.

The hidden door in the relief. Where he had managed to jolt just a piece of it open, the puppets must have managed to finish the job; the door stood wide open, the unnerving reddish glow spilling out into a ruddy streak on the floor in front of it. Rue squinted, looking further into the room, and realized that the wall on the far end was gone. They must have come in from there. Wherever 'there' went.

"They're through there," Rue said, pointing to the door.

Duke followed where he was pointing. "Yep," he said. "That'll do it."

"I'm going after them."

"You better be," Duke said.

Rue stepped toward the door and heard shuffling footfalls behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see Duke was following him.

"Duke," he began.

"You aren't stopping me," Duke said.

"Your head is bleeding."

He waved off Rue's words. "I've had worse."

"Look, I can't let you–"

"The hero," Duke said sharply, "never abandons the lady."

Rue looked at him and realized the futility of saying otherwise. "All right," he said. "Just... if you can't go on, don't force yourself, okay? The hero also knows better than to kill himself before the quest is complete."

"Not true," Duke said. "The third installment of _The Warrior Heart_ series, the hero Tiesto–"

"Tiesto was fulfilling a blood oath. Anyway, the real prophesied hero was Ueda, and he certainly didn't die until he'd killed the False King."

Duke stared at him, mouth hanging slightly open.

"I _like_ reading," Rue said. "I just haven't read anything new for a _while_."

Duke smiled.

"Y'know," he said, "you aren't half bad."

"C'mon," Rue said. "We better hurry. You sure you're up for this?"

Duke nodded. Rue looked down the corridor. He sucked in a deep breath through his teeth, exhaled.

Then turned down the passage and led the way.


	18. Yordaf's Lament

**Eighteen || Yordaf's Lament  
**

* * *

The back of the small room had opened into a passageway, a set of stairs that led downward at a rather sharp angle. The light from the small, hidden room only went so far, but the end of the passage was illuminated in a cool, white light, and it was enough to maneuver by.

Rue headed down the stairs and emerged into a short corridor that met up with another hallway. He stepped forward tentatively and pressed against the corner, leaning around to see if there was anything waiting there. The passage was empty, but it was also short; the room seemed to be little more than a transition hall, taking them in a tight turn until they looped back beneath the cathedral proper.

He slipped out from around the corner and proceeded.

The architecture was different down here, lacking the care taken to make the cathedral itself beautiful. It was far more utilitarian; the walls were gray concrete, the lighting in the form of simple bulbs positioned at even intervals along the ceiling. In that short corridor, there was nothing else to disrupt the stark aesthetic.

Next corner. He peered around and saw another hallway extending before him, gray walls lit up by that strange, sterile white light. This one, however, was pockmarked by slabs of unadorned concrete inset into the walls– doors, maybe.

He stepped around the corner and looked over his shoulder. Duke was watching him with anticipation.

"See anything?" he asked.

"Just the hall," Rue said. "Come on."

He led the way down the path, slowly at first, but he quickly realized that being deliberate would do nobody any favors. They had to find Elena.

He picked up the pace, moved to a fast walk, and reached the first of the doors. He looked it over quickly and realized that there was no handle or knob or keyhole or even rough indentation that would indicate how the door was supposed to open. He touched the surface, trying to feel along for some clue, but no matter how he pushed it he couldn't find a means of opening the door.

Behind him, Duke was having the same issue.

"What are these?" Duke said. "Are they even a thing?"

"Weird architecture choice if they aren't," Rue said.

They tried the next couple of doors they encountered, but they continued to refuse to budge.

So they kept going, down to the end of the long hall, where it terminated at another door– an actual door, a surprisingly ornate one, covered in swooping gilded patterns. Rue approached the door carefully and pressed his hand against it, pushed, and felt it give.

"This'll open," he said. "Take the other door."

"Charge in together, huh?" Duke said. "Sounds like a plan."

Duke pressed his shoulder against the other door. Rue unsheathed the gladius and angled himself. Duke counted them down, and at 'Go!' they slammed through the doors, ready to fight anything that was in the next room.

But they weren't entirely ready for the next room.

It was a large square, several feet deep and several feet wide, but the ceiling was just as low as it had been in the hallway and made the room feel cramped and claustrophobic, even for its size. Decorating the room were four long, thin tables, covered over by rumpled sheets. The room itself was not nearly so sterile as the hallway; old stains splattered the floor and flecked the walls, and a strange, dank scent still hung heavy in the room.

"What is this?" Duke said quietly.

Rue stepped forward, toward one of the tables, and examined it more closely. Sets of straps lay across the top, attached to the bottom of the tables and meant to be tightened and secured on the top. He gave it one more look over, just to be certain.

"I think it's an operating theater," he said.

Duke was at another one of the operating tables, slowly working on getting the cloth off the top. When he yanked it away, it became clear; the tables had a thin cushion to them, badly worn down by time, but it was clearly meant for somebody to lie down on. Or be placed on. Rue didn't particularly like the look of the straps.

"Well," Duke said. "This is a little..." His words trailed off, and he shivered visibly.

"If it's any consolation, it looks like this hasn't been used in centuries."

"No dust, though."

Rue looked back at the table. "No," he said. "No dust." He looked around the room and his gaze finally settled on the door in front of them, directly across from the one they had entered through. "Duke?"

"Hmm?"

"You saw them take Elena, right? I mean, they just knocked you out but they took her down here."

Duke thought about it for a few seconds, then nodded. "Yeah, that's right."

"They took the bag too, right? With the armor?"

"I think so." He headed toward the next door. "You think they took her 'cuz she was holding on to that stuff?"

"Maybe." Rue looked around the room again and found himself hoping that was their entire impetus. Given what he was seeing, he didn't want to contemplate the other possibilities.

Duke grunted and pushed the next door open. He peeked out into the room, then leaned back in. "Coast is clear. None of those doll-things."

"Where did they go? I wasn't outside that long, how deep in are they?"

"How deep can it get?" Duke asked. "How big you think this place is?"

A legitimate question. He had assumed that the atelier was just beneath the cathedral, but even if that was correct he had failed to account for the possibility of how deep it might go. But then, remembering Doyle's story, he didn't think it was that deep, not if people could still hear the screams in the cathedral. Granted, Yordaf might have performed his rites closer to the surface than the atelier reached, but then why build the rest of his unholy temple if he was staying so close to the surface?

They entered into the next hallway, and Rue assessed it quickly; clear and empty before it took another sharp turn at the end... and like the last one, it was also interrupted at uneven intervals by the unmoving doors.

They made their way down to the end, but as they neared the corner Rue felt something in his chest start to tighten, and breathing was coming a little harder. He felt cold, he felt nervous, and he had to run to the front, ahead of Duke, to confirm his suspicions. He reached the corner and pressed his back against it, then gave himself a few seconds to get steady again. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, pressed his fingers against his temples to fight the light-headedness that was slowly coming over him. After a moment – a moment more – the feeling had mostly passed, and even though he was still shaky and frightened, he could at least function again.

He leaned around the corner.

There they were, maybe a dozen of them total, all congregating near the end of the next hallway. They were moving as one, shuffling slowly, and he saw that a couple of them were very close together at the head of the pack, although there were so many between him and them that he couldn't see anything more than that.

"Puppets," Rue said. "They're– they're all up ahead."

He sounded breathless and tried very hard not to, but Duke picked up on it immediately. "What is it with those things?" he asked.

"They're damage," Rue said. "I mean, their, ah, their souls are damaged."

He waited for a follow-up question – 'How do you know that?', anything of the like – but Duke was shooing him to the side so he could get a better look. Rue ducked out of his way, and Duke took his place peering around the corner.

"Oh, wow," he said. "That's... there's a lot of them."

He looked over his shoulder.

"Gonna have to fight through 'em," Duke said. "You got my back?"

Rue blinked, a bit taken aback by the question, but finally nodded.

Duke nodded back and slipped out from behind the cover of the corner, and without further warning charged straight down the hall toward them. Rue was slow in following, the abruptness of Duke's actions catching him off guard, but it was just as well; those few seconds gave Duke the head start he needed to plow straight through the gathering of puppets.

The puppets turned upon Duke, and even as he tore through them – admittedly impressive to watch – the others were descending upon him just the same, striking and shrieking. Rue had an obvious shot to get through the ones in the back – the ones attacking Duke's back – but he hesitated just a moment when he saw a flash of blue up ahead. The two puppets leading the ground and turned and together lifted what they were carrying, and were working their way out of the congregation and toward the farthest concrete door. They approached the door and it slid open before them, easy as anything, and shoved themselves into the opening. Just before they vanished behind the concrete slab, he saw that they were carrying Elena.

He almost threw himself down the hall. The oppressive aura of the puppets weighed down on him, but he focused on that image – of them stealing Elena deeper into the atelier – and kept that foremost in his mind. He was screaming at himself that he had to get out of here, that there were too many, that one was too many, that they were wrong and vile and he shouldn't be here nobody should be here and he let the thoughts just carry on as terrible background noise while he kept hold of that image and it didn't matter, didn't matter how many of those monstrous things there were, he had to save her he couldn't let her be taken by them but they didn't belong they shouldn't be there what could have made these creatures because _something_ had done this to them and there was evil here he had to leave but he wasn't leaving without Elena had to

Duke's hand came down on his shoulder and Rue wheeled and barely stopped himself from slicing into Duke's chest. Rue had to force himself to step back, force himself to calm down. He was shaking and the adrenaline was screaming through him and he was overwhelmed by the sound of blood rushing through his ears and he had to tell himself over and over again to

"Stop, woah, stop," Duke said. "They're gone."

Slowly, his body unknotted, the fog over his mind drifted away, and Rue looked around.

They weren't _gone_, of course, but the whole mass of puppets lay strewn on the ground, broken and lifeless once more. He felt a wave of cold wash over his skin and involuntarily tensed again as he saw the first flickering remnants of their desiccated souls start to coalesce. Carefully, deliberately, he sheathed the gladius.

"Sorry," Rue said, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke. He swallowed and tried again; "Sorry, I just–"

"Don't apologize," Duke said. "That was _intense_. What happened to you?"

Rue decided that saying 'crazed fear' was probably not the best answer. Fortunately, he had another, equally legitimate one.

"The ones up front," he said. "They had Elena."

"What? Where is she?"

Rue walked to the door they had disappeared through. "In here," he said, and shoved himself against the door. "I saw them– walk through this." He shoved again. "But I don't know _how_!"

Duke stood back and studied the door. "So," he said finally, "maybe only these puppet-things can get inside."

Rue looked at him.

"That's–" He exhaled and looked back at the door and realized that Duke had a pretty solid idea. "Okay. Um... maybe..."

"I got it," Duke said. He reached up for one of the puppets and brought it over to the door, and waited for a few seconds. A few more. Frowning, he slapped it against the concrete and held it there, waiting for the door to respond. Still nothing. With a sigh, he laid it back on the ground.

"Never mind," he said, and not a moment afterward suddenly cried out; "Wait! Rue!"

"Yeah."

"Can you... can you maybe transform into of them? Maybe this isn't working because they're kind of... you know. Dead."

Rue opened his mouth to speak. Immediately words failed him. He gave up, tried again, and all he managed was a high-pitched exhalation. He snapped his teeth together and looked down the hall. There were still a few lingering spirits twining their way up in the air, all of them fragmented and misshapen and it was actually hurting him somewhere deep in his head just looking at them.

The idea was repulsive. He had never dealt with such a fundamentally broken, twisted spirit. He didn't know if he could even do anything with it, which was better than the other thought; he didn't know what it would do to him.

And maybe the idea wasn't even going to work. Maybe the puppets had some kind of magic that they had used to open the door, even though he couldn't feel any of the active bindings of it. But they were so alien – so wrong – that perhaps there was something else to it, something he could never hope to understand, which–

Which still meant that, if that were the case, transforming into one of these creatures would still work out for him.

"I–" He swallowed. His mouth seemed abruptly dry. "I can give it a shot."

One of the lingering spirits had vanished while he had been trying to come to a conclusion, but two others remained. He tried to study them, see which one was less anomalous, but they both twitched and mutated so freely there was no easy way to tell, and if he stood there for much longer they would both be gone and they would have to seek out another of these creatures and he couldn't afford to wait any longer. He focused on the one closest to him and willed it to himself.

The spirit bobbed through the air, lilting and twisting in odd ways as its shape continued to deform and twist. His whole body tensed, and he had to put everything he had into refusing to run; every fiber of himself was refusing to assimilate this thing.

_This isn't about me_, he reminded himself. _If we can't reach Elena..._

He relaxed just enough that he could forced himself to catch the light. The soul energy suffused his body, and he shut his eyes tightly and clenched his teeth to combat the vague sickness he felt on acquisition– although this was more than just vague. A few seconds later, when the feeling should have passed, he was hit suddenly by a foul sensation settling in his stomach, something so abrupt and strong that he doubled over and had to brace himself against the floor. Discomfort turned to full-blown nausea, and he buckled over completely, gagging into the stonework. It was dumb luck he hadn't bothered to eat anything that morning.

After what felt an eternity, his limbs stopped shaking and his stomach settled and he looked up blearily. With one arm he wiped away the tears of nausea, and then ran his hand through his hair, getting it out of his eyes. He leaned back and stared to rise, slowly – painfully – only to look up and find a hand in front of his face.

"C'mon up," Duke said.

"Thanks," Rue gasped, and Duke helped him back to his feet. When he was standing he was hit by another wave of disorientation, and had to lean against the wall for a few seconds until it passed.

"What was that?" Duke asked.

Rue shook his head. "Don't– don't worry about it."

He had to get this over with quickly.

He turned toward the door, gave himself a few more seconds to settle, and then closed his eyes and focused again, on the puppet's form. He felt it rise within him, a cold and almost prickly sensation that made his skin itch, and he concentrated on it, braced himself, let go. Azure light exploded behind his eyelids, and as it faded, he

_the master demands sacrifice_

_he will bring her back if only you can make him happy_

_they're all insufficient, he'll never approve of this_

_I'll fix it_

_take matters into your own hands_

_stitches them back together but it never holds never holds never holds never_

_I'm sorry_

Rue's eyes snapped open and he found himself sprawled on the floor, slick with sweat, gasping for air. He reached up and pressed his hand against his head, felt the sharp edge of crystal under the cloth headband. His hair was tousled and falling in his face again, such bright white, everything else seemed so gray...

"Hey." A voice. It sounded like it was far away, and filtered through some kind of pipe, all distant and hollow and faintly echoing. He tried to latch on to it, but he could feel his conscious effort slip away. He latched on to something else, then; the impossibility of it.

Because yes, that was right, he was in the atelier, and he was right where he had been, and Duke had to still be there, so the voice wasn't far away at all. That's right. That's right...

Now pressure on his shoulders, gentle shaking, although it felt like his brain was knocking around the inside of his skull and most of his organs felt strangely detached and floating, sloshing around inside of him. He felt sick again, wanted to throw up, fought down the urge. Nothing there, nothing there, it would only make his chest hurt and he felt hurt enough.

"Hey, you there? You okay?"

Rue tilted his head back. Dark hair, sharp features, gray eyes, pupils dilated. Fear.

"Help me up," Rue said, or at least tried to; the sound was far more garbled than liked. Duke seemed to understand it, at least, and helped haul Rue back to his feet. When he was standing again, he pressed his whole hand against his face, trying to fight back the pressure building up all through his skull. "What...?"

"I dunno," Duke said. "I thought you were gonna do your thing but then you just kind of... collapsed. What happened?"

What did happen? Voices, he remembered that, and– flashes, too, images bursting into his head too quick and too abstract for him to understand. He tried to focus on them, but when he did he almost felt his entire head would collapse. He stepped back, didn't concentrate, but still tried to understand...

"Yordaf... did something," Rue said, the words forcing themselves through his teeth. "Trying to... augh, geez." He pressed his hand against his head again, Too much pressure.

"Look," Duke said. "I'm gonna see if there's another way around."

"No," Rue said quickly. "No, I think– I think you're right. They can go through these things, I just need to– hold on to something."

Duke raised an eyebrow. "Like a... hand bar, or something...?"

And Rue laughed– or made a sound that was close enough to it.

Then he focused. First on the puppet, but then after that, he summoned something else to mind, something much warmer that cast away the frigid prickling under his skin.

_Watch over me, Claire._

He released his hold.

Light blazed around him, and he heard it again, the chattering of voices, whispering and screaming through his mind, clawing at his consciousness. But they were distant now; there was something between him and them now, soft, powerful.

He looked up.

He was blind; the puppets had no eyes, and as he extended his self-awareness he also realized that there was no face, either. Artificial parts, bits of machinery and cloth crudely fashioned into humanoid form and held together by binds of expertly sewn magic. They had been mass produced this way, devoid of individuality and identity and life. That had to come later.

_Focus!_

Right. Blind. But he didn't need vision, not in the traditional sense. The puppet had a tactile awareness of its surroundings, and though it took him a few seconds to acclimate he already understood the principal; it was almost the way he could feel magic.

He moved forward, ignoring the strange, numb grinding of machinery inside him, and stood in front of the door. He dug through the storm of thoughts being held at bay until he found one that seemed relevant, and cast its echo forward, toward the door.

_The master desires me to enter_.

The door opened, and immediately Rue abandoned the transformation and without another thought jumped forward in case it slammed shut behind him. Duke was hardly a second behind, and just as well; as soon as he cleared the doorway, the concrete slab snapped down, locking in behind them.

"You still okay?" Duke asked.

"B-better," Rue said. "I'm... I'm not doing that again."

"Yeah," Duke said. "That's okay."

Rue leaned against the wall and slid down until he was sitting at the base. "Gimme a minute," he said. "I just... a few minutes."

"All right," Duke said. "I'm gonna scout ahead. Meet up with me when you're good."

Rue nodded, and heard Duke's footsteps recede as he walked away.

When Rue was sure he was far enough away, he reached up to his forehead and touched the crystal. He willed the puppet forward again, but this time pushed it all the way to the forefront of his mind. He wasn't actually sure if this would work, but there was no sense not trying.

He focused, then pulled his hand away. Almost instantly he felt better, his sickness disappearing almost completely, and when he looked up he saw the puppet's soul, contorting and writhing, twisting up and swallowing itself. He watched it for a few seconds until it twisted, swept itself away, and disappeared. A sense of catharsis swept through him.

He got himself back on his feet just in time for Duke to come back into the room.

"You're up?" Duke asked.

"Seem to be."

"Great. I found where they took the girl. Just down the hall."

"Let's go."

Duke led the way this time, even though the hall was a straight shot to the end. When they got there, Duke pressed up against the door – another larger, more ornate set – and gently pushed it open.

Rue felt their presence before Duke had fully opened the door, but he wasn't quite prepared for the number of gathered puppets in the room, or the state of the room in general. It was another operating theater, although this one only bore one table, and the staining around that table was far more erratic and far more ingrained. Elena was laid out on top of it, on her stomach, plainly unconscious; the bag with the small armor pieces lay discarded beneath her.

"Up for another go?" Duke asked, flashing him a grin.

"Not much choice," Rue said.

But before they were ready to burst into the room, the puppets turned as one to the other door. There was noise, almost like chatter, and then they scattered, streaming to the two sides of the room. On either side, one of their personal doors opened, and the puppets managed – with a great deal of bumping and inadvertent shoving and awkward maneuvering – to filter themselves out of the room.

Rue and Duke stood motionless.

"They left," Duke said.

Rue did not respond. He opened his door a little further, peered into the room, and then stepped fully inside. All of the puppets had vacated, and they had not bothered to strap Elena down to the table or anything.

He moved quickly, straight to the middle of the room, scooping Elena up in his arms and retreating right back to the corridor. He emerged from the doors and lay her gently on the ground.

"What, that was it?" Duke asked.

"I doubt it," Rue said. "Hold on."

He went back into the room, moving toward the bag of accessories, his eyes on the opposite door. The puppets had fled from something; with any luck he could be in and out before it came back, and then they could concentrate on finding a way out of the atelier.

He grabbed the bag and was halfway back to the other door when he felt it, a fog rolling over the back of his head, a jolt down his spine, a constriction in his chest. He stopped cold and tried to force himself to move, but it was no good; he couldn't even keep his grip on the bag, and it slipped from his fingers and hit the floor with a metallic clatter.

He heard the doors open and managed to jerk his head around, looking over his shoulder.

_Oh, god._

There was a creature there, long and impossible thin, its limbs little more than over-extended bones, its torso all spine and sternum wrapped in loosely-clinging flesh. The arms and legs were far too long, forcing it into slow and deliberate movement as it found the ideal way to place its too-human hands. Long, boney fingers reached forward and grasped the sides of the operating table, and the other arm tilted down, lowering the upper torso so its head was roughly Rue's level.

No, heads. The first one was almost predictable, some thin-skinned skeletal visage, grinning at him with exposed teeth and empty eye sockets, poorly stitched and shriveling flesh tearing at the seams to reveal the dull ivory of the skull beneath. It seemed an appropriate mask for the rest of the elongated, twisted creature, but it was actually the second face that left him paralyzed.

It was a woman.

A woman's head, eyes closed, lolling lifelessly to the side, long brown hair dripping to the floor. Thin features, high cheekbones– she was still perfectly formed, and it would have been easy to think she was somehow simply asleep were it not for her neck terminating rather grotesquely into the monster's torso, where the poor stitching was coming undone.

He stared, unmoving, as the fine limbs of the monster tilted and moved, and its torso glided toward him. Its head stopped a few feet in front of him, and the skeletal face tilted to the side. It exhaled, carrying strange, rattling words on its breath.

"Where is...skin..."

The stench of its breath, heavy with rot and mildew, suddenly jolted him back to the present. Rue coughed and turned away from the creature, grabbing the edge of his shirt to try and cover his nose, but he felt it moving over him, leaning closer. Its limbs reached forward, hands splayed out on either side of him, tall spidery limbs holding the creature's torso right over his head.

"Stole it..."

He scrambled to pick up the bag again.

"Beloved... I will bring you..."

As soon as his hand was around the mouth of the bag, he hurled himself through the doors. He emerged, stumbled, barely caught himself, and looked over his shoulder.

"Duke! Elena! Get!"

Duke picked her up gently, but was staring at Rue. "What's–"

The door creaked open, and one slender arm emerged from the room. The hand opened and splayed against the floor, and the rest of the arm began to move through. Then the shoulder, and shortly after the shoulder the torso swung out through the door.

"Young," it hissed. "Be young again, beloved."

Duke stared, mouth ajar. Rue shoved him in the direction they had come from. He staggered, shook it off, and started running back down the path, with Rue following just behind.

They slid into the room they had come in from, and Rue slammed the door behind them. It wouldn't stop the thing once it caught up to them, but they would at least have a few extra seconds. He turned from there, ready to head out the other door, and stopped himself.

Right. The door that only puppets could walk through.

"You're gonna need to do that thing again," Duke said.

Rue ran up to the door and pressed his hands against it, trying to force it to slide in the direction it had opened in. Naturally, it did not.

"Look, I know that messed with you pretty bad, but–"

"I can't," Rue said quickly.

"What do you _mean_, you can't?"

"I mean that it is physically impossible. I–"

Something thudded outside. The door rattled, then exploded inward, and the stitched monster thrust its upper body into the room. It turned slowly, regarding Duke and Elena, then twisted itself to look at Rue. Rue dropped the bag and drew his sword.

The monster laughed– rather, made a strange noise somewhere between laughter and screeching. Without further warning, its chest burbled, ballooned, and then burst in a cloud of putrid air and dry bone shards. Emerging from a hole now torn its upper right ribs was a third head, elongated and almost serpentine. It opened its jaws, gathering power in the back of its throat, and then exhaled a plume of flame. Rue pulled back and slammed against the wall, away from the flames but not out of the heat.

"Duke, out of the way," he said.

Duke almost objected before he looked down at Elena, and then took a few steps back from Rue. Rue reached down and with his free hand grabbed the bag again, and stared the monster down.

Unfortunately, the creature seemed more interested in Duke and Elena; it was turning to face them, its arms making an awkward scramble to twist around, and he couldn't have that. Rue lunged, swinging the gladius, and slammed the blade into one of the creature's arms. It rebounded off the bone, but now he had its attention again.

The serpentine head hissed, fire gathering in its jaws, and Rue dashed forward and jabbed the sword up. He felt it connect with the thing's lower jaw, heard it shrill, and quickly removed the blade and pulled back to where he had been standing.

The serpent shrieked; the whole monster reared back on its awkward hind legs, heads brushing the ceiling, and then it slammed forward and brought the entire weight of its body down. Rue threw himself to the side, and the monster slammed into the space where he had been a moment before– and then through it, its torso crashing into the wall and into the door. When it leaned back, covered in rubble and dirt, the door was jacked to one side, its mechanism broken.

Except he needed it completely open.

He looked at the monster as it twisted to face him, then under it, toward Duke and Elena. He shot Duke a look and a nod and hoped that it was enough for him to understand, and then started moving backward again, this time angling toward the other door.

The monster was turning with him, its skeletal face keeping its eyeless gaze on him, its too-long limbs twisting and turning to keep it moving. He continued to back up, and the creature pressed forward. Behind it, he saw Duke must have figured out what he was saying; he was at the door, Elena laid down next to him, working to shift the thing entirely out of the way.

He only saw a glimpse, though, as the monster, now stable and facing him, lowered its torso again. He expected a blow from the head, or for the serpent to wake up and spew flame, and prepared himself to parry only to be struck from the side by one of its claw-like hands.

He flew, hit the ground, and skidded along the stones until he came to a painful stop, scraped all down his side. His arm especially seemed to have taken it badly; there was a fine trail of blood leading from just about where he had hit the ground to right where he was lying, connecting him to where the gauntlets and sollerets had fallen.

He dragged himself upright, trying to use the gladius to balance, his left side screaming in pain. He managed to right himself and stared up at the creature, bracing himself as best he could even though his limbs felt liquified.

He just needed an opening, a moment, just a sliver of time to–

The creature raised its hand and grasped for him again, and Rue dove forward. He reached out, grabbed the bag, rolled to his feet and ran. He was flagging, his adrenaline was almost all used up, but all he had to do was reach the door and then the thing couldn't follow him, it was just too large, he just had to outrun it...

And he could. Its misshapen limbs tangled it up as it tried to turn to face him, and even though he was rapidly running on empty and starting to stumble, he made it back to the room, back to the door, and as he had hoped Duke had somehow jarred it loose and the concrete slab rested along the bottom of the door opening. He jumped over it and nearly knocked himself out when he completely failed to actually gain altitude, slamming his chest against the top of the stone.

He backed off, coughing, and looked over his shoulder. The monster was almost on top of him. He tossed the bag and sword through the hole and managed to shove himself over the other side. He splayed on the ground, briefly winded, then kicked off the stone door and managed to drag himself a couple of feat away, just within reach of what he had already thrown ahead, when a bony hand grasped his ankle and yanked him back toward the door. He scrambled for purchase, but no good, and the monster nearly had him dragged back through the door opening.

"Come back here," the monster said. "Such... _sublime_ architecture, I must–"

"Sunrise Uppercut!"

Rue barely had time to process what he was hearing before Duke, hurling himself from where he had been waiting in the corner of the room, rocketed upward and slammed his blazing fist into the creature's primary head. The skeletal head snapped up and immediately crashed against the top of the opening, then slumped down, body slack, back into the room. Duke caught Rue by the collar and dragged him several feet away from the door opening, and then doubled back to the corner where he – and Elena – had been hiding. He picked her up and jogged back to Rue. Rue managed, very carefully, to get himself back on his feet, and stared at Duke.

"What was that?" Rue asked.

Duke smiled thinly. "The hero always waits until the most dramatic moment."

Rue considered.

"All right, I'll give you that one," he said.

"C'mon, we're out of here."

The monster slammed into the wall behind them, its rasping voice screaming unintelligible threads down the corridor as it continued to try to crash its way through the walls.

"Yes," Rue said. "We are."

. .

Leaving the atelier was slow going, but mercifully uninterrupted, and the path back was mostly a straight shot. They clambered up the stairway and back into the red room, then out into the cathedral itself. Rue allowed himself a few minutes of recovery, then went back into the red room and shifted all of the furniture around. It had been disrupted by the puppets emerged earlier, but now he used it to create a makeshift wall in front of the passage.

"That's not gonna stop 'em," Duke said.

"It'll trip them up," Rue said. "And it makes me feel better."

"Eh, fair enough."

Rue was concerned that the doors would still be locked by the they left, but when they reached the front doors they swung inward easily as though they had been oiled, and without another question or further hesitation they left the cathedral and didn't stop walking until they were beyond the outskirts of town and at the edge of the lake, at which point Rue could not force himself on any more. He sat down on the grass and stared out over the lake. It was barely past midday.

"That was fun," Elena said. "But can you put me down now?"

Duke looked down at her and blinked. "When did you wake up?"

"A coupla minutes ago." He obliged, gingerly placing her on the grass, and she immediately sprang back to her feet and dusted off her dress. "You two saved me, huh?"

Duke looked away and ran his hand through his hair. "Well, I couldn't _not_," he said. "Monsters kidnapping a girl? I can't abide that."

Her smile widened. "Thank you, Duke," she said, and half-bowed to him. "You really are super nice, aren't you?"

"Feh."

"What's the last thing you remember, Elena?" Rue asked.

"Hmm." She turned to face me. "Those guys took me down into a big hallway. I tried to hit them, but it didn't really do anything. Then they got annoyed and knocked me out." She looked at him more closely, then gasped. "What happened to you!"

"A few different things," he said. "It's superficial, don't worry about it."

She gave him a heavy glare and brought out the little healing bottle. "Nuh-uh," she said. "I can fix you up and you're not gonna stop me."

Rue put up his hands in surrender. "If you insist."

She did. She knelt down next to him and immediately got to work, soaking the edge of her dress with the ointment and applying it along the scrape of his arm.

"Stubborn streak," Duke said.

"I guess so."

"Well." Duke stretched, shook out his limbs, and started to walk. "I'm gone."

"That's it?" Rue asked. He looked at the little bag of armor and nudged it. It felt like everything was still there. "I thought you were interested in whatever I was collecting."

Duke rounded to face him. "You really wanna fight over it?"

"_No fighting_," Elena said flatly.

And Duke laughed. "Guess I can't go against that kinda request. You're lucky, Rue. If your lady friend wasn't here I'd gladly take you up on that offer." He grinned. "Although it wouldn't be much of a fight. How 'bout you stop bleeding all over the place and we'll have a real battle?" He nodded to the bag. "I'll win that stuff back easy. And then some."

"Can't say I look forward to it," Rue said.

"No, but you better be ready for it."

And with that, Duke turned and headed off at a jog. Rue looked over to Elena.

"Elena?" he said.

"Hmm? Does it hurt?"

"What? No." Actually it was a rather pleasant sensation, cool and almost bubbly- which sounded very much like a potion Mel would concoct. "I was just gonna ask. What exactly did you have in mind tonight?"

Her brow furrowed. "Well," she said, "you and Mint are working so hard to help Dad, I thought maybe we could just relax. I was gonna set up a picnic and we could come out here on the lake – the other side, I mean – and maybe watch the sunset. Or– or not. I really just wanted to talk to you guys."

"That..." He exhaled and closed his eyes. "That sounds delightful, actually."

Elena perked up. "You mean it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that actually sounds really nice. Let's do that."

"Yes! Oh, I'm so excited, what should we pack? I know Mom had some really good leftovers, and– oh! I might have time to bake a pie! Would you like that? Mom and I make a really good pumpkin pie."

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be delicious."

Elena continued patching up his wounds, now grinning broadly, and Rue looked out over the water, first to the altar, then to the opposite shore. He really liked the idea of relaxing.


End file.
